A New Tomorrow
by Hogwarts Angel
Summary: What if Chuck woke up at the end of season 5 to find that everything that had taken place after the accident had just been a dream? This takes place after the finale of S5, so S6 never happened here. Everything is rewritten from the point of S5 E10. And finally, this will be a multi-chapter story! NOT a one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

I am standing on the rooftop of the Empire, staring down at the city below me and wondering where I'd gone so wrong. Headlights are blurring past far below, and in my pensive state I feel like I'm staring down at my goals and dreams, so far out of reach despite my best efforts to achieve them. I'd thought I'd done right by my father, followed in his footsteps and made him proud to call me his son and heir. I'd thought my father believed in me, that he saw the future of Bass Industries resting comfortably on my shoulders as his successor. So why had Bart Bass just taken everything away from me?

I turn away from the view below me as a series of brisk footsteps alerts me to another presence on my rooftop. I want to tell them to go the fuck away, to let me have my private place to think and to brood, but I already know who it is, and seeing behavior like that won't help my case.

"I thought that went well," my father announces as he approaches. He appears unfazed as I snarl at him, clearly seething. "What did you want to discuss?"

"You said this was a family business. What happened to us being partners?" What happened to your belief in me?

"You said partnership. I said nothing and did what was best for my company."

This hurt, I acknowledged, but before I could get too caught up in it I was biting back.

"The only reason this company still exists is because of me. All I've done is work to protect your legacy." And mine, I added silently. But clearly that was no longer relevant.

"And pine after Blair Waldorf," my father answered smugly, turning away from me. Why couldn't he even look me in the eye?

"Blair has nothing to do with the way I've handled this business!" I hear myself say, the only thing I can say, but a part of me doubts it even as the words leave my mouth. Blair has everything to do with the way I live, because she's the love of my life. Not that she cares to know it.

"You didn't try and trade her for a hotel deed?" My father asks. I feel my blood literally freezing in my veins at his words. "You didn't let everything fall apart when you ran away from her all the way to Europe?" I feel a hot sense of shame creep over me, dousing my icy numbness in prickling guilt. At the time, I couldn't think of anything else but to get away from it all, I think desperately. I'd been shot. It was a decision made in the moment, although admittedly probably not the best. But Lily would never have let the company turn sour. She knew it meant too much to you. And I hadn't planned on returning to see it through..

The onslaught continues. "You didn't just three months ago almost bankrupt yourself trying to get her out of her marriage?" My father was seething too now, and he radiated a sense of disappointment so strong that now I was the one who couldn't look him in the eye. "I had hoped you would outgrow such foolish behavior, but you are still willing to throw everything away for a girl who's done nothing but toy with you."

I looked up at him now. He would dare judge my relationship with Blair? But of course he would, I thought bitterly. It was him who'd nearly sabotaged it in the beginning, when I'd been naïve enough to let his opinion divert me from my plans to take Blair away for the summer, all those years ago. Before our relationship had really even begun.

"And you proved that when you took that engagement ring," he finishes, turning his back to me completely now.

"You gave me it," I snarl, desperation driving me. I don't understand why this is so wrong, how things got so messed up. "You encouraged me to win her back!"

"It was a test," my father states simply, "to see if you were ready to be a Bass. To do the things you need to do to be a great man. And you failed."

"Failed!" The word repeats a thousand times in my head, drowning out everything else. I think briefly of Lily, who clearly loves Humphrey Senior, but is giving that up to be with the man standing before me. She is such a considerate person. A loving person. I think of the many times that she has made herself available to me: to talk, to listen, to _be_ there. What would she think if she saw Bart Bass now? Did she know the real man she was married to? Had I hurt her by bringing this man back into her life?

"I got you out of hiding," I gasp, my blood boiling at the gall of this man. He would dare criticize my love for Blair? "I took down your enemy. I built this empire!" I declare, frustrated that he can't see the amount of work it took, the tears and the emotion and the dedication that went into his company. Our company.

"No, no, no, the most that you have done is used my money to redecorate," my father scoffs, and I glare at him. "Bass Industries needs to be run by a man, not a boy." He levels me with another disappointed stare, and I feel it slice through me, feel the chill in my bones. "You've never grown up. Maybe you can start now." He turns away from me for the final time then and walks back into the building, returning to his celebration. He's at the top of the world again, the CEO of the multi-billion dollar company that he's just stolen out from under me. And I've been left with nothing. No piece of his legacy. And no Blair to show for what I've lost. And the truth hits me then: we've just argued over something that I don't even have. A relationship that is a part of my history. Blair just cost me my future, and she's blissfully unaware, probably basking in the inadequate attentions of Humphrey somewhere in the dregs of Brooklyn. I don't have anything to show for my efforts. I've been duped.

I wallow in this realization for a moment, standing in the cool air at the top of the Hotel that I once owned. How had this happened?

I am angry. I am pissed and venomous and ready to jump off of this building and not think twice about it, but this entire night, the way that I'm feeling, just reminds me of the night that Blair kept me from following through on this exact urge two years ago. I'd been at my absolute low then, disappointed in my failure to live up to my father's image. I'd thought he was dead then. I'd thought I only had my memories of my father's disappointment to haunt me in my worst moments, but I had been wrong. This was so much worse.

And Blair, Blair who had held my gaze so steadily and begged me not to do that to her. Not to leave her. She had promised me that night that she would always be there. And only a year ago we had been on the verge of starting our life together, before the accident. She had gazed at me with her eyes full of promises, full of love, and said that she wanted to be with me. But where was she now? Why wasn't she here now? I just don't understand how things turned out this way.

And as if to answer all of my unspoken emotional questions, Blair appears like a hallucination in my darkness. Only just this morning she was avoiding my attempts to get through to her, telling me there was somewhere she needed to be (there's _always_ somewhere she needs to be, that's the beauty of Queen B). And now here she is standing in front of me. 'What reason could she possibly have to seek me out now?' I think as she approaches. These conversations hurt too much for me to enjoy the fact that she's here with me instead of God knows where else with Humphrey.

She stops too close for comfort, and the scent of Miss Dior lingers in the air between us, teasing my senses. She must have witnessed my father's dismissal because the first words out of her mouth are "I'm sorry," and that can't be because of her indecision over the past year.

"I don't need your pity," I tell her, as I take in her doe eyes and loving expression. While this is a change of pace, I refuse to fall into this trap again. My father is right, it's time that I let go of Blair and all of her uncertainty. I've never been unsure of the love between us. I knew it for what it was and all that it meant from the very first moment I felt it, and if Blair can't respect that and if she doesn't want to be with me then that's a painful truth, but it's one that I have to deal with. Because chasing her has robbed me of all of my energy, leaving my own life in ruins.

"I'm not here because I pity you," Blair murmurs. "I'm here because it's time I was honest with you." And then she's whispering those three words that I never stop waiting to hear from her. But it's all wrong because I've already lost everything that ever mattered to me, including her.

"I love you," she says. "I'm in love with you. I have tried to kill it, to run away from it, but I can't, and I don't want to anymore."

I am too blindsided to reply, and so I reply "So what?" because that's all that I'm thinking. So what if she'll admit it now? I've known it all along. But she never saw me as worthwhile, and now that I've lost Bass Industries, I'm worth nothing at all. I can't help the voice that whispers in my ear that this change of heart won't last. It never does.

"So now we can be together," she replies, and I feel the hope trickling out to consume everything in my chest. But my disappointment in myself is greater, and the two are warring internally now, barely leaving me space to breathe. "Isn't that what you want?" she asks.

"It was," I admit. "Before I lost everything."

"Bass Industries isn't everything," Blair replies, and her doe eyes get larger. The sight of her is painful, clawing at wounds that never healed.

'No Blair _you_ were everything.' I can't help but think. 'I lost you, and everything else fell apart.'

"I'm going to take over my mother's company," Blair's saying now. "And that can be our future."

"The only reason Waldorf Designs has a future is because I gave mine up for it," I hiss at her. I know this is unnecessary, and as I watch those doe brown eyes flinch with pain at my words, I know I should stop. But I'm hurting, and so I continue with what I do best when I'm hurting. I lash out at the woman I care about. Maybe if I hurt her enough, she'll stop raising my hopes from the ashes of our relationship and reminding me of all of the reasons that I wanted us to be together. Because I used to think that together we could get through anything, but I've forgotten what that invincibility feels like, and I don't need her constantly tugging at the loose strings of our past.

"My father was right," I scorn. "I always put you first. And you bet against me every time." I feel the absolute certainty of this statement as I say it, and it hurts me to hear the truth of how things were. I'd always believed in us. It was her who didn't.

She stares back at me, her shoulders hunched from the brunt of my truth. But she's stopped bringing up the past, so I have a chance to clamp down on the blossoming hope and look at things rationally.

"And now I have nothing."

"You have me," she argues, and she is making it difficult to resist the temptation, exposing my bleeding heart to her indecisive nature. Damn it, Blair. Why couldn't you have believed me when I tried to tell you months ago that all we needed was each other? I remind myself that I've never been good enough for her, never measured up to her idea of what she needed. This won't last, I tell myself.

"That's not enough," I shake my head. "I need a future."

"Then let me be part of it," she whispers, but I hear the plea behind her words. A part of me wonders if she really does mean it this time. Has she left Humphrey? Could she really be standing here offering what I think she is?

I'm pissed that she can just waltz in here and leave every cell in my body wanting her. This is supposed to be my sacred place, this rooftop. And now every time I come up here for caprice I see _her_. And her scent is driving me crazy, but I need to get myself under control before I do something I'll regret, like falling into this vicious cycle again.

"I don't want to be Mr. Blair Waldorf," I tell her, because I know that it will wound her pride. "I'm Chuck Bass." The words sound hollow to me, like they lack the meaning they usually hold. I hope that saying it will buy me the time I need to get back to my room before she can recover enough to come after me, but a part of me fears what I'm walking away from. A part of me wants to stay and hear her out.

I look away before I can see the damage that my words have caused, stepping around her and heading towards the door to get back inside. But even though I can't, I _won't_, allow myself to stop, all I can think is 'Blair said that she loves me. Blair wants me back.' And I'm disgusted with myself because that's enough to make me happy. No wonder my father is so disappointed in me – I lack the drive that it takes to run a multi-billion dollar company.

When I get to my room, I call Jack. Because he's always good for a distraction, and because I know he'll get me the hell out of here.

"Lets go to the casino, little nephew," he suggests on the phone. I hastily agree with him, and hang up when he claims he's calling a car. Considering my lack of a legacy, I should show a bit more concern for my bank account, but I am still Chuck Bass, after all. A little dent in my wallet won't kill me, or cost me my lifestyle.

The truth of the matter is though, although these are obvious reasons why I wouldn't need to think twice about entering a casino in the distracted state of mind that I know I'll be in tonight, I can't get Blair out of my thoughts long enough to think about anything else. Is she still somewhere down at the party? I wonder again whether she was serious about her offer, and then I immediately chastise myself for wishing that I could go down and talk to her. Things are the way they are because she made them that way, I remind myself. Ever since the accident, she's steadily proven that every word she told me in that town car was a lie.

_There was only ever you. I love you, Chuck Bass._

The words are leaded with pain and the agony of a thousand regrets that I've had since that day. My name held a lot more stature then. Even if she was serious tonight, I know that Blair likes a man on top. She'd grow bored of taking care of us, of her name being the one to precede mine. She may be a control freak, but she's always felt a sick sense of pride about being Chuck Bass' lover. Could I bear to open my heart to her again, only to have her leave me because of what my father took away?

I clench my hands, bringing them to my face and stooping low in an attempt to stop all of the thoughts rushing through my head. I look around blindly, seeing nothing in my wild attempt to outrun my emotions, then catching sight of a decanter of gin sitting on the bar. I walk steadily to it in an attempt to model calmness for my internal organs' sake. When the cup of gin has been poured and is in hand, I feel steadier on my feet. I caress the cold, smooth glass with my fingertips, taking strength from its comforting familiarity. There's nothing a good glass of liquor hasn't gotten me through before.

Jack is the promised distraction I need, whisking me out into the New York night and onto a plane to "Vegas, Chuck. There's no women more beautiful to distract you than right here in the loosest city in the good old United States."

I know that Jack is trying to be a good companion, offering cigars and brandy and even hookah on the plane, and I accept it all gladly. Anything to numb the realization that I've walked away from Blair. Because when I relive the night now, everything up until the moment Blair steps foot onto the rooftop of the Empire is a blur. She is my everything, my drunken self allows me to admit now, and I've just walked away from her.

Anytime that I've ever walked away from any chance she's ever given me, I've experienced this self torment. Why am I without her right now? I could have her here, with me, scheming with me, keeping me whole. Instead, I'm sitting across from my uncle, drowning the pain of her loss in cigar smoke and brandy. Nothing could be less deserving of mourning Blair. In fact, nothing _could_ be deserving of mourning Blair. Not only does she require a level of sophistication that nothing could possibly measure up to, but she also is impossible to forget about. Isn't it an essential part of the mourning process that you forget the pain and move on? I could never.

With hours of this flight stretching out before me, I consider, for the first time in a long time, that night in the town car. I haven't allowed myself to dwell on this for a long time, mostly because it's too painful to relive, having been so close to everything I ever wanted only to have fate snatch it away again. I would have had a _child_. I would have had a family with Blair, would have made her my wife in a heartbeat, on that very night if she would have let me. I close my eyes because they burn, partially from the cigar smoke, but also because of the jarring fires I've thrust myself into with my sojourn into the past. These memories hurt, but not as much as what comes after them.

We could have made it through the loss of our child together. Because it was mine, he or she was mine. After the first ten minutes of holding Blair in my arms, caressing her and her pregnant stomach, she and her child both belonged to me. With me. As soon as my mind was capable of wrapping itself around the very pregnant Blair in my arms, I was considering renovations for a nursery for my future son or daughter. And nannies. Where the hell did people hire those from anyway? And how did you know they weren't lunatics in disguise?

When Blair had looked at me with those empty eyes, told me in that lifeless voice that she'd lost the baby, I'd felt a kick in the pit of my stomach that had left me breathless. Was it symbolic of the kicks she would never again feel in hers? I remember taking her hands in mine, how cold they were. These were the little details that lingered about that conversation. I'd felt her pain, felt my own mirroring hers, but I'd known that we could get through it together. We had a long, difficult path ahead of us, but I knew that we had each other, and that was enough to get us through anything that life might pit us against.

But she'd already decided that there was no 'we' anymore.

I felt the reality of my solitary state threatening to overwhelm me, seeping in to drown out everything else.

All I'd ever wanted for the past year was for Blair to come back to me. And now she had. But I'd just fucked it all up by throwing her apologies away, and now I was literally 3,000 miles away from being able to contact her anytime soon. What was I doing?

I stood up, and Jack stared at me oddly for my sudden movement.

"To the men's room," I mumble, fumbling to give him some excuse for my hasty departure. When I was safely locked into the restroom, I leaned on the counter, taking in my disheveled appearance. My eyes were bloodshot and sunken, probably from all of the stress I'd been under in the past week with my father being back. I stared into them, searching myself for answers. Did I want Blair more than anything else? Was she all that mattered?

Maybe I'm nostalgic from the memories, but it feels like my veins are pumping her name throughout my body. I have remembered all of the reasons that I was happy to have her safely nestled next to me in that town car, speeding away from Louis and all of her obligations. And the pain of missing her is threatening to become overwhelming.

'Does it matter what part of me she wants?' The single thought brings me to contemplate the current state of things. My father has taken my company away from me. Over Blair, my devotion to her, and my sincere and eternal love for her. And for the past year, Blair has been running away from me – via Humphrey, via Louis, via any means possible to rip me out of her life. And now she's decided that she wants to give us a shot again. Why should it matter what she thinks of my lack of fortune or inheritance? She heard my father firsthand, and she was still standing there offering the chance for a future together.

And I know that I'd rather live with Blair than without her. Seeing her in someone else's arms again might kill me, someone less worthy of her than I am. And I'd have no one to blame but myself for letting her go.

And that's when it hits me. This time it's my choice. Where I'd had my choices ripped away from me before, and Blair had held all of the cards because she was vulnerable and I hadn't wanted to push her, this was my chance to make everything right. Blair was offering me a chance to start fresh, start our lives together. And although her behavior of the past several months might not have left me very happy with her, she is here now, and isn't that what mattered?

A heavy bit of turbulence rips me out of my thought process, leaving me grasping the sink for stability.

"We're landing!" I hear Jack call from the front of the plane. Jesus Christ, had it really been two hours already? How long have I been standing in the bathroom?

I return to my seat quickly. As I snap my seat belt, I feel the plane tilt unmistakably towards the ground, and I close my eyes against the rush of the alcohol I'd consumed. Ah, there is the numbness I'd been seeking. Leaning into my seat, I relax and let the alcoholic haze take over.

I am blissed out for hours, watching card dealers and cocktail waitresses and gamblers go about their routines around me. I can't quite grasp the concept of whether we're on a good streak or on a bad one, so I just let Jack take the lead, content to be floating in my self-induced haze. Jack keeps looking at me, though, in his knowing way, cutting through my fog and reminding me of my indecision. So I avoid his gaze, intent to enjoy our stay. From the corner of my eye, I watch as a woman approaches us.

"Is a seat available?" I hear her ask, and I turn to see Blair standing next to me, her voice unmistakable.

"Yeah, you can have mine," Jack offers, and I turn to stare at him. I don't understand what's happening, and I hope that he sees the looks that I am sending him, although he moves quickly so that Blair can seat herself next to me. And then she's all that I can see. She is here, somehow, and it feels like a dream as her eyes scan my face, and she smiles at me.

"You've fought for me all year," she gently acknowledges, and my heart soars at this acknowledgement. I have, I champion myself internally. I've never been the one to give up. Until now.

Blair continues. "I've come to fight for you."

As the dealer asks her if she'll be joining the game, she looks away from me, and I immediately feel the loss of her gaze. But then her eyes are on mine again as she pushes all of what were once Jack's chips into the center of the table.

"You said I always bet against you, but this time I'm all in."

Her words echo in my ears, and I experience a form of tunnel vision as I look at her. She is beautiful, dressed in a little cocktail dress that my fantasies are made of. But I can't help but to think that this is all wrong. What is Blair doing in a casino, without a scheme behind it and some sort of disguise to protect her dignity? We should be back on the rooftop as I tell her this, our rooftop, where so many stages of our lives have fallen into place. We should be alone, separated from the hoards of people around us who have no respect for the level of intimacy there is in the air between us right now. But I don't care enough not to say it, because I'm so wrapped up in the fact that she's sitting next to me that I can hardly keep the words contained.

"Blair, I love you," I blurt out. Her eyes widen, but she doesn't move, fearing the refusal that's bound to come. But I can't manage any more words, so I lean forward and kiss her. A kiss that says a thousand words. Words of apology for our lost baby, and words of kindness and consideration for all that she went through afterword, without me by her side. Words of love and devotion that she didn't get to hear from me in the past year. Words that describe how beautiful she looked on her wedding day, even though it was all wrong and it should have been me standing there waiting at the altar. Words for the tears that came when I realized that it never would be.

I pull away for a breath, looking at her, but she pulls my lips back to hers, and suddenly more words are forming, only they're hers. Words of apology for leaving me waiting, and words of understanding for my hesitation to come back to her. Words of love, strengthening words, and words of mourning for my damaged relationship with my father. We are telling in this kiss the story of the year we spent apart, and so it is a long and heartfelt gesture, one full of longing and gratitude, truths and their consequences.

When we finally part, I am breathless with the emotion of loving her. But with a jolt I realize that the people around us have disappeared, and I am confused by the empty room we are sitting in. I've heard of feeling alone in a crowded room, but this is ridiculous. Where has everyone gone?

As I look around in confusion, Blair seems unperturbed, stroking a single thumb across my cheek. "Now you understand," she says, "how much you mean to me."

And then she is disappearing, too, her perfect form curling into a thick mist that's seeping out towards all corners of the room. I panic then, and grasp her to pull her closer, but there's no substance in my arms, only a rolling fog. I look around in shock and horror to see that the casino lights have grown grotesque in their fluorescent colors, rolling together into one big roiling mass. And then suddenly everything is black, and it's difficult to breathe.

I feel groggy, like my inebriation has returned without Blair to heighten my senses, and a steady beeping noise pervades my nothingness. I realize that my eyes are closed, so I open them slowly, unsure of what I'll see. The light is dim, but I can immediately tell that I'm no longer standing in the casino. I'm looking up at a ceiling, but I'm not looking up, I'm lying down, I realize. As I become aware of the rest of my body, everything is tinged with a slight level of pain. I'm covered in about 3 layers of blankets, which is probably why I'm sweating balls, and as I lift my arm to push them away from me, I notice that there's an IV attached to the back of my hand. I'm in the hospital, I realize, and then I quickly look around to confirm that I am indeed in a hospital room.

But what's even more interesting is that Blair is slumped over in a chair directly to my left. She's covered in as many blankets as I am, it appears, but what I can't stop staring at is the bulge of her abdomen underneath the blankets. It can't be. I reach out in awe, needing to confirm what I am slowly starting to suspect. My hand comes to rest on a firm, hard bulge. What can only be my baby.

A rush of tears floods to my eyes at the sight and feel of Blair, the love of my life, literally bursting on the brink of motherhood once again. Even in the dim light, I can see the rosy hue of her cheeks, a sign of the precious package she's carrying that she's been marked with since conception. She's pregnant. She hasn't lost the baby. Once I am done being overcome by this, I ponder this news as I gently stroke my fingers over her swollen belly. The accident. We must have just come from the accident.

A sense of de ja vu washes over me as I realize that, although it had been so ingrained in my senses, every vivid detail of the last few months must have been a dream. A long, nonsensical dream conjured up by my subconscious to torture me, even on the brink of death. And then an immense feeling of relief follows. Blair never left. She's here, sleeping at my bedside, after what can only be labeled as a horrible nightmare of a year spent without her.

The thought makes my hand twitch on her stomach, and I move to place my fingers over hers, where she's gripping the blanket. Her arm moves, and her eyes flutter open, and as she comes awake, I am in awe at how beautiful she is. Even dreams don't compare to the woman I have in front of me.

She looks down at our linked hands in confusion, and I see her fighting to ward off sleep. Then she raises her gaze to mine. When she sees me looking at her, a look of astonishment, then joy, overtakes her features.

"Chuck," she shouts, and I watch as all traces of sleep vanish from her face. "You're awake," she cries, and she is crawling onto the bed to hold me close, her large abdomen preventing her from squeezing the little air I have from my lungs. "Oh baby, does it hurt?" she coos, and she leans back to look into my eyes, searching my face, hers inches from mine. I take in her doe brown eyes and those long, dark lashes, the single freckle near the bridge of her nose. They're all there, comforting me that this is in fact reality. She has some cuts, I notice, along her hairline. But they are well on their way to being healed, and she seems fine, so my worries are put to rest. She smells of antiseptic, no trace of Miss Dior on her person, but I don't care. All I can think about is how much I want to hold her close. To revel in this moment, this realization that I am back where I should be, at the beginning of starting a family with Blair. A life with Blair.

"I'm fine, " I reassure her, and my voice scratches like it hasn't been used in weeks. Blair hears this and whisks herself out of my arms, only to return with a Styrofoam cup.

"Drink this," she says, and I smile because I've missed the way she orders me to do things. The water makes my throat feel better, and once she's returned the cup to the table, I motion for her to join me on the bed.

I scoot back to make room for her as she sits, and then lays herself in front of me, scooting in so that my chest is pressed to her back. I automatically reach a hand around to cup her much bigger middle, and I am struck by the newness of this familiar position. I am cuddling with Blair and our baby.

"I love you," I whisper in her ear as I lay my head in the crook of her neck. I can feel the pain medication that the IV is supplying beginning to take hold of me again, pulling me under. I am comforted by the feel of her breathing, the steady hum of her breath as it whooshes in and out.

"I love you, too," I hear her whisper as the room fades away.

My last thoughts are of what tomorrow will bring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

When the first person walked by, all Chuck heard was the faint sound of footsteps somewhere outside of his room. He slept on, unbothered by the noise.

When the second and third person walked by, conversing rapidly in hurried voices and with no attempt to be hushed, Chuck awoke mildly annoyed. Who the hell had Nate had over last night, and why were they so friendly with one another? Grudgingly, he moved from his comfortable position to pull the blanket over his ears, hoping to muffle the noise. It wasn't 15 minutes before he was back to sleep.

Then Chuck awoke to the sound of movement in the room. Blearily, he attempted to look around for the source of the noise, but he was pinned by a massive form in front of him. What time was it? Was Nate coming in to wake him up for something?

He reached for the bedside table to turn on a lamp, but was stopped by the feel of the IV in his arm. At the sight of it, all of the memories came rushing back to him. The past ten months of his life weren't real. He wasn't at home, healthy and fully recovered from the accident nearly a year later. He was in the hospital, lying next to Blair.

_Blair_. At the thought of her, he cautiously peeked at her from his vantage point over her shoulder. The room was dark, making it hard to see anything but the contours of her face, but she was peacefully asleep. Peaceful, he noted, looked good on her. It resonated from her small (despite her pregnancy) form in his arms, folding out in waves to lap at him. He smiled in acknowledgement, a smile he couldn't seem to help – a silly grin, really. It was registering to him now that this was the first day of the rest of their lives together – the one that had been stolen from them in his other life.

His thoughts on this subject were interrupted, however, at the sound of a footstep near the edge of the bed. He turned to see a guilty Serena frozen mid-step like a deer caught in headlights. When she saw that she'd woken him, she looked guilty, but she couldn't keep a smile from overcoming her features.

"You're awake," she whispered. "I was just coming to check on Blair," she explained. "The nurse was worried that she'd fallen asleep watching over you. She hasn't wanted to leave you, but she's supposed to be on bed rest," Serena shook her head. "You know how Blair is. No one can argue with her."

Chuck smiled at her. "I can't say I wouldn't have done the same," he replied, bringing his arm up to cup Blair protectively to him. "She is alright, isn't she? And the..uh - ," he struggled to form the words, finding that his chest had frozen up with the sudden fearful thought that his assumption could have been wrong. He had only been conscious for less than ten minutes when he'd woken up before. What if Blair hadn't wanted to worry him? What if she and the baby weren't fine?

Serena sensed his concern, hastily supplying his much needed answers. "No, no, she and the baby are both okay. Distraught, but okay. The first thing they did when she was brought in was check on the baby, but she's fine. They say it's a miracle that she's still healthy, but Blair was shielded from the impact by your body, they said." Serena was tearing up now. He could hear the quiver in her voice. "Chuck, I'm so happy that you're awake. It's been three days since the accident. The doctors kept trying to explain to Blair that it was probably the pain medications that were keeping you unconscious, and that you would wake up in time, but she's been so worried. And so have I.." she trailed off, hugging herself. She was looking at Chuck with those big baby blues, Serena's specialty, and Chuck felt his heart go out to his baby sister. Blood related or not, they were siblings, and he could see the concern and worry of the days past etched into her face. He smiled at her reassuringly, gesturing to himself with his free hand, the one that wasn't trapped under Blair.

"I'm Chuck Bass," he responded, and the words felt right in his mouth as he said them. "Nothing could take me away from my Queen."

There was really nothing else that could have been said that could have been more fitting in that moment. Or more true. And Chuck momentarily took pride in the new fact that Bass Industries was his once again. Then, with a jolt, he realized that that meant his father had not come back. His father was…gone.

As Chuck was digesting this information, his features twisted into a look of sadness so deep that Serena was concerned. "Chuck, what is it? Is something wrong?" She asked, a large hint of concern coating her voice.

"No," Chuck hurried to console her. "I just..had a bad dream." He switched gears, shoving those thoughts away to examine at another time, when he was alone. He replayed what Serena had just told him, trying to pick up the threads of their conversation. "The accident..was three days ago? Has Blair seen…?" His words trailed off as something occurred to him. "Wait, did you say 'she'? Our baby is a girl?" he asked tentatively, replaying her words in his mind. She had definitely said 'she'. More than once. He stared at Serena, searching her eyes for answers. "I thought that Blair and Louis didn't want to know the gender of the baby. How would you..?

Serena definitely looked guilty now. "The doctors didn't know that when they were examining Blair the night of the accident. She was still unconscious, but when they were filling in my mother and I on her condition, the doctor referred to the baby as a girl. I think they assumed that since Blair is around 5 months pregnant, she'd already been to a doctor to confirm the gender."

Chuck was stunned by this news. He was going to have a daughter. He and Blair were going to have a baby girl. No matter how he worded it in his mind, the fact that he was going to have a child, a daughter, in less than 4 months, was suddenly much more real. He looked at Blair, her porcelain skin and soft features. Any girl of hers would be beautiful. He wondered if she knew. As the thought occurred to him, he turned to Serena to ask. But she answered before he could voice the question.

"Blair doesn't know," she whispered. She was looking at Blair, too, now. "I know that it was her decision to wait until the baby was born. I didn't want to spoil that for her. Especially with her being so concerned about you. It just seemed like it wasn't the right time," she explained. She looked at Chuck, her eyes pleading. "I didn't mean to tell you. I was surprised, and caught off guard. Please don't say anything yet. I know that's a lot to ask, but I just – " she didn't know how to explain it, so she stopped the sentence there. She stared at Chuck, and for a moment the two of them sat quietly in the dark room, each preoccupied with their own thoughts.

"I won't say anything," Chuck said softly after a minute had passed. He was still deep in thoughts of pink clothing and little doe brown eyes just like Blair's. She'd have her father wrapped around her finger, he noted wryly. That was a fact. At the thought of her father, Chuck raised his eyes from Blair's face and turned to ask Serena the question he'd meant to ask a few minutes before. But Serena had questions of her own.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"I – not long," Chuck answered, absorbing the change in subject. "I woke up last night, and Blair was sitting here. She crawled into bed with me. I couldn't have been awake for more than ten minutes.." his thoughts were fragmented as he tried to remember, but his memories were fuzzy. It must be the medication they had him on. Already his dreams of the past ten months were becoming hard to remember. Certain details had slipped away into the corners of his mind, and Chuck found it disconcerting that he now couldn't remember chunks of the time that he was having difficulty not considering his 'past'.

"That couldn't be right," Serena answered, her features scrunched in thought. "I was just in here a few hours ago. I only left because my mom insisted that I should have dinner with the family for Rufus' birthday. It's 1am now."

The fact that it was the middle of the night was news for Chuck. As his mind adjusted to the change in time, he had to resort his memories and put them in the correct time frame. He had woken only a few hours ago. Already it seemed that his other life was days in the past, but it had only been a few hours. Blair had only been his again for a few hours. He looked at her, stroking her arm absently. He didn't want to wake her, but he desperately wanted to hear her voice again. To be in the presence of the woman he loved with the knowledge that they had their whole lives to spend together in the forefront of his mind. He had missed her, missed sharing her unconscious moments as well as her conscious ones, and not being limited to seeing her at public events on Louis or Humphrey's arm. It was such a relief to know that she had never left. She was still here. Still his.

"I guess it feels like it's been longer," Chuck said finally. He didn't look up from Blair's sleeping form.

Serena didn't say anything. She watched Chuck with her best friend and smiled internally (and a bit externally, too. She never was any good at keeping strong emotions to herself). She was happy with this change in their lives, happy that they had come back to one another. Despite Blair's best attempts to be happy, she could never be happy with Louis like she was with Chuck. Serena was glad that she'd realized that before it was too late to turn her back on Louis. Before she was the Royal Crown Princess of Monaco.

As if he could read her thoughts, Chuck looked up at her. "Has she seen Louis?"

Serena nodded. Then she took a deep breath, attempting to do so discreetly. This was the other subject she had information in that Chuck didn't. But this time she wouldn't spill Blair's secrets. They were hers to tell when she chose.

"He visited her the morning after the accident," Serena replied. "He was confused, obviously, about why she was in a car with you..but she made it clear pretty quickly that she wanted to end their engagement, so he didn't get the chance to ask many questions."

Chuck nodded, digesting this information. He smiled a bit at the image her words constructed. That was Blair, always getting to the point.

"Did he take it well?"

"Well enough," Serena summarized, hesitant to get into the details. "He was a bit upset that she wouldn't listen to him when he suggested that they try to work things out. But she didn't really leave him a leg to stand on," she finished. She didn't give Chuck a chance to speak, but continued on.

"Hey, I'm gonna let you sleep, okay? I promised Blair that I'd be back," she snorted at this, looking at Blair again. "Threatened, really, so that she'd go back to her room. But I'm tired. It's been a long couple of days. I'm really relieved that you're awake," she said again. She danced in place for a moment, hoping that Chuck would want to go back to sleep. "Besides, I'm sure you need your rest."

Chuck nodded. Despite having supposedly slept for days on end, he was still tired out. His body was cocooned in a lethargy that could only stem from his injuries and the drugs that were working to heal them. He didn't notice Serena's antsiness, only her desire to let them be alone together.

"Will she be okay here overnight?" he asked. He hated to ask it, but if Blair needed to be back in her own room for any sort of treatment, he would wake her and make sure she got there.

"She should be okay," Serena answered. "I think she'll sleep better with you than if she were in her own room knowing that you're awake. And the bed rest is just a precaution, really. They just don't want her out of range of immediate care in case they overlooked something."

Chuck was relieved to hear that. He couldn't bear the thought that anything might be wrong with Blair or the baby she carried.

"I'll tell the nurse that you're awake, and that she's in here with you. Hopefully whatever they want to give you can wait until morning. But you aren't hurt too bad. A little bruised maybe, but nothing major."

Chuck hadn't taken the time to give himself a thorough examination yet, merely noticed injuries in passing, and he thought about that now. "Nothing major?"

Serena shook her head. "No. Even though I was scared to death for both of you, neither of you were hurt very badly. The doctors said this was the best possible result for your car crash."

Chuck grinned. "Well, I am a Bass. And she is soon to be one. We're smiled upon that way."

Serena smiled at him – a true, genuine smile, her eyes misty. "Take care of her, Chuck. Okay?"

Chuck knew that this was a very serious statement despite the light phrasing. He looked at Serena, meeting her gaze. "I will. I'm not letting her go again," he replied solemnly. "If Humphrey even tries to touch her.." he mumbled under his breath, but the rest was too quiet for Serena to hear. She furrowed her brow in confusion, unsure of what she'd heard. Chuck, for his part, acted as if the slip had never occurred.

"Will I see you tomorrow, sis?" he asked.

Serena decided that she would let him get away with the moniker given that he seemed genuine. "Yes, you will. I'll be back sometime in the afternoon. I'm sure my parents will want to see you, so I'll be sure not to tell them that you're awake until the afternoon so that you and Blair can have some time to yourselves."

Chuck thought of Lily, and how concerned she must have been. "Don't wait too long. Blair and I have the rest of our lives to be alone."

Serena smiled at him again. "If you keep talking like that, I'm going to wonder what happened to the great Chuck Bass, heart breaker extraordinaire."

Chuck looked at the sleeping woman in his arms. Arm. Which he hadn't been able to feel for the past twenty minutes. "He fell in love," he replied. "But he's still there."

With a saucy wink from Chuck, Serena departed for the Van der Woodsen penthouse. Chuck settled himself comfortably into Blair in the dark room. Taking a deep breath, he sighed it out as he nestled into her hair. Mm there was just a touch of Miss Dior in the air after all, he mused.

Just the way he liked it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** So my apologies, and I will try to make these mistakes few and far between, but I was rereading chapter two and I noticed a typo in my writing. It's nothing that a spellcheck would have found, rather a mistake in the number I typed when I was writing some of the dialogue between Chuck and Serena.  
Blair is 6, nearly 7 months pregnant. Not 5. I was so happy to have finished that I didn't give the chapter the editing it deserved before I slapped it up there for you all to enjoy. My apologies for the inconsistency, as I know that she tested positive in May, so I intended for her to be much further along than 5 months. I typed the wrong number by mistake. Read on, and don't forget to review!  
xx K

**Chapter Three**

The warm glow of the crimson Manhattan sunrise is lazily creeping out to illuminate the darkest corners of the Upper East Side, but the city is already thrumming with activity. Eric and Serena Van der Woodsen are on the corner of Fifth and Madison, in the midst of their rare but cherished sibling bonding time, and enjoying a bite to eat at Le Pain. A few blocks away, Lily and Rufus are doing the same, only theirs is a much more intimate affair. Rufus' birthday was the evening before after all, and nothing says Happy Birthday like an evening in your birthday suit with your one true love. They are currently blissfully engaged in a cozy breakfast for two, en suite.

Closer to downtown Manhattan, the usual morning traffic jam has occurred, and the also frequent morning road rage is being loudly voiced some several stories below Chuck and Blair's hospital window. It seems that the city never sleeps, but Chuck and Blair do, content enough in one another's presence that even the call of the city can't engage them on this morning.

In her former days, Blair would have long since been up and out of the door to attend to whatever commitments she had set for the day, gracefully flitting through engagements and responsibilities, perhaps even a charity event or two, all before lunch at the most fitting locale for whatever image she was trying to project that week. But in recent months, Blair had all but forgotten whom that vivacious young woman was, or how to tap into her drive. Lately, all Blair truly ever wanted to do was be lax. In any way, shape, or form – method didn't really matter. With a new life growing inside of her, Blair found that she spent nearly all of her energy simply attempting to keep the same level of productivity in her day that she had always maintained. Distraught by her seemingly endless amount of laziness, Blair had fought hard to continue the daily tasks of "a woman in Manhattan", declaring to all that dared argue that she would not "simply lie around and get fat like all of the other pregnant women of the world." She lived on the Upper East Side for one – a locale that needed her constant supervision to ensure it remained up to its priceless standards. But she was also Blair Waldorf – and she had an image and a reputation to uphold. What would Monaco think of its new princess if she were to step down as Chairwoman of the Red Cross Campaign, or if she were to stop making public appearances at local events?

But eventually even Kate Middleton had to withdraw into the private halls of her palace for maternity rest, and so had Blair – if not completely willingly, then with begrudging acceptance that her role as a parent came first, and her son needed his energy. Yes, she had decided that she was having a son. Quite frankly, she hadn't been able to refute the notion once he'd started making turntables in her stomach and squishing her internal organs so completely. She saw no possibility that any girl of hers would move so brutally and decisively, especially in the night, when her poor mother was trying to sleep, and so contented herself on most days in the wee hours of dawn with thoughts of how strong her son would be, and how he would take after his father in both appearance and mannerisms – making swift and irrefutable decisions as well as movements.

These mornings were her favorite, lying next to Louis, or sometimes by herself if he were away on business, and caressing the lovely bulge of her midsection, talking fondly with her little boy. She'd prod here and there, always earning an enthusiastic response from within, and it became a wonderful game to press where she imagined a hand might be and feel him press back, as if to say 'yes, I'm here, and I can't wait to meet you either.' She grew to be happy with her relaxed schedule, for this time to spend with her little one before she had to share him with the world. Before she had to share him with Louis and everything was completely ruined.

Blair knew that it was dramatic to think this way, but drama, after all, was in her nature, and so she couldn't help but to be wrapped up in concern and angst about her approaching due date. Because she wasn't Blair Waldorf without secrets, and boy did she have a few that would be irreparable if they came to light. But thankfully she didn't intend on them becoming public knowledge, and even better, no one knew but herself, so she was contented in the knowledge that the way she'd quickly and quietly buried what little evidence there was would suffice to ensure that she lived happily ever after like she'd always planned. But the fear was still there. It haunted her in her unconscious hours, reminding her of the truth of her situation. And in her conscious ones, well, she had a constant reminder there, too. Because everywhere she turned, she was reminded of the existence of one Chuck Bass.

The past week had turned her entire life upside down. Not only had she reunited with him, but she had nearly lost him and her little tumbler before she'd even had the chance to make things right. Before she'd had the chance to tell the truth. To tell Chuck that he had a son.

Because that was her big secret. Louis wasn't her baby's father at all, rather he was a cover story for the real and jarring truth. The night that Blair had decided she couldn't fight her feelings for Chuck, long ago at some stranger's Bat Mitzvah before motherhood was even a thought, they had conceived a love child. But no matter how romantic this truth was, it was still unacceptable. Unacceptable because Chuck had given her her freedom to be happy with Louis, to try to be happy in a normal and calm manner. To leave the passion and inevitable maelstrom of their own contorted relationship behind her and walk a different path. And again, before her baby had even been known to her, she had chosen to settle into a life with Louis. She did love him, after all. Not in the overwhelming way that she loved Chuck, sometimes despite her own unwillingness, but in a gentle, reassuring kind of way. He was a source of light in her life that she could depend on, a companion for all of her inevitable struggles.

Until recently, that is. Until he'd become so threatened by Chuck that he'd turned to some very un-Louis-like behavior in an attempt to secure their relationship. And although Blair knew that some of it was her fault, she was too horrified that he was capable of the underhanded behavior that had pushed her away from Chuck in the first place to be as understanding as she probably should have been. Also, and there was only a very small part of her that would admit to this, deep down she'd wondered if Louis wasn't right to feel threatened. In the past month, Blair had been questioning herself more and more on whether she was capable of keeping her little boy away from his father, and wondering more and more whether her hasty initial judgment that Chuck and Louis were similar enough that no one would know that her baby was Chuck's wasn't a bit far from being a good enough reason to keep the truth to herself. Because along with the acceptance that her son came first in everything flooded a bundle of accusations that Blair was being selfish in her decision to marry Louis. And every day she grew more and more concerned that she didn't have what it took to lie to everyone for the rest of her life.

But Louis would be heartbroken if he knew, and what if she and Chuck weren't ready to be parents? With Louis, she was comforted in the knowledge that she had a whole royal family's worth of support. There would be the finest international education and the most stringent security and a wealthy cultural inheritance as well as a monetary one for her little one. Who was she to take all of that away from her child in favor of a tumultuous romance with his father?

Blair had weakened in her resolve in recent weeks, to be sure, and when Dan had given her the opportunity to call Chuck that day in his little lofthouse in Brooklyn, she had done so with an intensity in her chest that she had all but drowned in, her heart beating so rapidly in her ears that it overrode all of her thoughts. And when Chuck had told her that it couldn't be a mistake to marry the father of her child, it had been one of the biggest truths she'd ever been awakened to. So although she felt so guilty about what she'd done to Louis, about how she'd left him, she felt even more guilty about what she'd nearly done to her unborn child. She felt guilty about the way she'd watched Chuck become the great man she always knew he could be, and had stood by and said nothing about the little boy who would be proud to know such a father. A mother's guilt was a tremendous thing, she realized now, and her little tumbler hadn't even been born yet.

But that just meant that she had time to rectify her mistakes, give her child a clean slate before he was born. She'd had a lot of time to think as she watched over Chuck hour after hour once she'd regained consciousness from the accident. And she'd resolved that she would tell him the truth as soon as she felt it was the right time. She'd begun a self-soothing mantra of cathartic reassurances. As soon as Chuck was awake, she'd tell him about his heir. As soon as he woke up and she felt those vivid brown eyes pierce through her soul again. As soon as he could hold her close again. As soon as Chuck came back to her, everything would be set right.

It is just before nine in the morning when Chuck begins to stir. Groggy from the deep sleep he'd fallen into in the practiced calm of the hospital, he resurfaces slowly, taking in the room around him for the first time since he's awoken. It's a large room, with a corner nurse's station equipped with a decent sized sink and stocked with paper cups and towels. The chair that Blair had been sitting in is one of two by his bedside, and together with his bed they take up only a third of the space of the room. It reminds him of the room his father had been placed in the night of his plane crash, but with less emergency medical equipment, Chuck thinks as he lies pressed close to Blair. Then he quickly shoves those memories away. That's the last thing he wants to be thinking about this morning.

His stirring causes Blair to awaken, too, stretching out her limbs in the space that the small bed they are sharing allows for her to. Even in her half-awake state, she is deeply aware of the heat of Chuck's body behind hers. She is by no means a stranger to waking up to a companion after all of those months with Louis, but she is intensely aware that it is Chuck, and not Louis, who is lying with her now. And that knowledge fills her with a happiness so acute that she can't help but to smile, letting it wash over her. Chuck is awake, and safe, and he is all hers. And despite any doubts that she may have about his parenting skills (and she does have quite a few), she is happy that she has done right by her unborn child. She is happy that he is lying in bed safely nestled with both of his parents, the way it should be.

As if he can hear her thoughts, Chuck reaches an arm over her side to rest his open palm on the swell of her stomach, caressing it through her shirt. Unable to stand facing away from him any longer, Blair slowly turns to face him, feeling his hand come to rest in the small of her back. She settles into the crook of his arm and busies herself with memorizing every detail of his face. It is the same face that she has been staring at for two days, searching for any signs that he might wake up, but now he is alert and staring back at her, memorizing her features with the same intensity. They have been starved of one another, but it's as if allowing themselves to be open about their feelings has tripled their intensity, crippling them both in the backlash of just _how much _they need one another. It's frightening that they can't imagine being apart now, when only three days ago they were contemplating a lifetime separate from one another.

Chuck is the first to speak, quirking a crooked smile at her. "Good morning." He punctuates the greeting with a gentle kiss on her forehead, and Blair feels her skin tingle where his lips have brushed. She is warmed by the small gesture of affection. She could get used to mornings like these.

"Good morning," she replies, and she smiles back at him. They are both aware that the last time they were alone together was the night of the accident, when everything was new and there was so much to say and so much confusion as to what came first or how to go about things. Now there is nothing but time ahead of them, and things can move at a calmer pace. Blair is relieved of the stress of an upcoming confrontation with Louis, and Chuck is safe in the knowledge that Blair really is here to stay. For once, Chuck's mind isn't working at full speed with plans to get a ring on her finger or what to say to her should she have doubts or with considerations about where they should live. He is assuaged by the knowledge that she is here, has been here for 3 days now apparently. Clearly he has proven to her that his love for her knows no bounds, that their possibilities together are endless. Clearly he has done something right. And he basks in the knowledge that she is his, forever. No more games, no more waiting. No more obstacles. Just him and her, forever.

"You're preening like the cat that caught the canary," Blair teases. She is grinning up at him, euphoric in her own sense of having finally come home.

"I just can't believe that you're here," Chuck admits. "I thought I'd lost you forever."

Blair smiles in response, reaching up to peck him on the lips.

"I'm not going anywhere," she tells him. "There's nowhere else I belong. We _belong_ together," she emphasizes. "I know that now. Come hell or high water."

Chuck laughs. "In our case, it'll be more likely to come in the shape of the royal attorneys of Monaco."

Blair shakes her head. "I don't think they'll fight this." She looks uneasy. "They've more than proven that I'm not their first choice when it comes to who Louis should marry. Besides, I talked with Louis. He shouldn't bother us anymore."

Chuck searches her face for any signs of lingering distress from this conversation, but he sees none. He is delirious with the knowledge that this woman is finally his, that she is finally saying all of the words that he has imagined her saying for so long. He doesn't see her shiftiness. Doesn't see her discomfort at the subject of Louis. "I promise I'll make you happy, Blair," he whispers. It's an oath that he has been meaning to share with her since the moment she told him she wanted to be with him. "I won't make you regret this decision. I know how much it cost you, full royal title and all." He tries to make light of it, but he also wants her to know that he is serious. He will spend the rest of his life trying to make her happy, in any way he knows how.

"You already have made me happy, Chuck," Blair replies, and she reaches up to stroke his face, somehow simultaneously caressing his raging heart. "I'm the happiest woman alive. Because I have you by my side." She smiles then, her eyes shining with love, and Chuck feels his heart swell.

"You're Chuck Bass, the biggest womanizer I know, but also the strongest man I know. And I know that our path might not be easy, or simple sometimes, but I would rather have our real, true, passionate kind of love than the placid, straightforward kind of love I had with Louis. And it may have taken me a while to realize that, but I don't want to live without you, Chuck. _You_ are the most important thing to me. Besides," she crinkles her nose, "what kind of pull do the Grimauldis really have around the Upper East Side anyway? I'm much better off with the Bass name."

Chuck's heart skips a beat as she says this. He opens his mouth, but closes it again without him knowing what to say in response. He is full of racing thoughts about Blair becoming a Bass and about their little unborn daughter. A baby in the Bass family. And so soon, too. Finally, he manages "The ring – " because that's all he can think about. Blair has just given him images of her taking his name. Blair has just told him that she will marry him. He is the luckiest man in the world.

Blair waits patiently for him to speak. "The ring," he starts again, composing himself, "I don't have it. It's at the penthouse, otherwise I would give it to you now. But Blair, I want to marry you, do right by you and your child. Our child. I want to have a family with you." He brings his hand to rest on her belly between them. "I could adopt the baby," he stammers, and Blair's heart soars to see the great Chuck Bass humbled to the point of taking in what he believes to be another man's child. Her eyes are brimming with tears, and she mentally blames it on the hormones that have her becoming so weepy lately. She's on the brink of tears every other second, it seems, but her heart is full and light, and she can't help the tiny tear that slips down her cheek at the thought that of what she is about to do to this man.

Chuck brushes the errant tear away with the tip of his thumb, eyes scanning her face as if he's clued in to the tension beneath her porcelain features. She takes a deep breath to steady her frayed nerves.

"That won't be necessary," she begins, and she wants to squeeze her eyes shut and just blurt it all out, but she can't. She has to be strong, for Chuck's sake. She can't lie still anymore, so she abruptly sits up in the hospital bed, surprising Chuck into sitting up also.

"Blair, what's going on?" He asks confusedly. He is hoping that she is not about to sweep his world out from under him again, but she was only just saying that they were all set to live out their "I do's".

She is not facing him, but he hears her mumble. "I have something to tell you about the baby. He – "

"He?" Chuck interrupts. "The baby?"

"Yes, the baby, Chuck, keep up," Blair admonishes. Then she looks at him in apology for her short retort. She is hormonal these days, she rationalizes. He should know better. She opens her mouth to continue, but Chuck cuts her off once again.

"Did you and Louis set an appointment to find out the gender?" he asks this time. Blair responds offhandedly and quickly, impatient to finish her confession.

"No, but – "

"Well then how do you know that it's a boy?" Chuck asks. Blair is thoroughly irritated with his interruptions now, so she crosses her arms and stares at him, waiting for him to stop speaking. A few moments pass, and Chuck can't help but to smile at the supercilious air of his Queen B. She haughtily raises her head before dignifying him with a response.

"I don't, Chuck, that is merely my guess. If you had something swimming around inside you, you would assign it a pronoun, too."

Chuck smirks at her, that knowing smirk that gets on her nerves, but he says nothing. She glares at him silently for a few moments, trying to interpret the look. But she refuses to rise to his bait, so when she is quite sure that he is done talking, she starts again.

"As I was saying," she begins, but she falters because she doesn't know the right words to apply to this situation. How does one tell someone that they're going to be a parent when they've already been assured that they're not? She groans internally at the mess she's made. But before she can manage another word at all, a knock on the door frame directs both of their attentions to a middle aged doctor standing in the doorway of the room.

"Good morning, Miss Waldorf," she greets Blair with a friendly nod. "I see you've found out that Mr. Bass is awake."

Chuck and Blair make eye contact, neither willing to reveal that she'd been there overnight with him. But when Chuck looks again at the doctor, her eyes are twinkling. She already knows.

"How are you feeling this morning?" she asks Blair, interrupting their furtive glances.

"I'm fine," Blair responds immediately, refusing to acknowledge the large amount of relief flooding her at the interruption. She can't help that the doctor has come in. She will tell him later, she decides. "Chuck may need to be examined, though, now that he's awake," she gestures to Chuck briskly, desperate to prolong the doctor's stay. Anything to put off the inevitable. Anything to keep from having to tell Chuck the worst thing she's ever done.

The doctor nods at her, acknowledging her words while jotting a note on the clipboard she holds.

"I thought I'd take the opportunity to do just that," she agrees with Blair. "Do you want to run to your room and get some fresh clothes while I'm with Mr. Bass? It should only take a few moments. We just have a few tests to run."

At the mention of a change of clothes, Chuck looks at Blair, taking in her attire. She is dressed in clothing that he recognizes as being hers, he realizes. It's the first time that he's noticed that she isn't wearing a hospital gown like he is.

Blair stands up from the edge of the bed, leaning down to place a kiss on Chuck's cheek. "I'll be back," she murmurs before slipping out of the room to let the doctor run her procedures.

She is halfway to her own room when she feels a kick from within. It feels like a reproof, and Blair is ashamed.

"I'm getting there," she hisses, rubbing the spot where the baby has kicked her. "Just give me some time."

When she realizes that an older gentleman in a wheelchair has stopped to watch her talk to her stomach, she hurries on to her room, embarrassed to be caught talking to her unborn child.

Around 12:30 in the afternoon, Lily rushes into the hospital room, interrupting what had been a very intense discussion between Chuck and Blair about where they will be living once Chuck is released from the hospital. She engulfs Chuck in a fervent hug, effectively robbing him of air, and Chuck is immediately reminded of why he treasures Lily Humphrey so very much. When she releases him, her eyes are shining with unshed tears. Chuck himself is feeling a bit teary eyed. They stare at each other quietly for a moment, as Chuck finds himself lost for words.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you're up and moving," Lily finally breaks the silence, lightly caressing Chuck's cheek, her eyes scanning his face as if to check for any sign of poor health.

Chuck smiles, bringing a hand to rest on Lily's. "I'm fine," he says lightly, but he means for it to reassure her. He can imagine that Lily has been on edge the past few days. Her concern for Chuck never ceases to amaze him, and he finds himself wondering once again what he could possibly have done to deserve the love of Lily Humphrey.

"I know," Lily says. "And soon you'll be home, and it will be as if this never happened." She sighs, tucking an invisible piece of her already immaculate hair behind her ear. "But you can't blame me for worrying."

They share a smile, and then she kisses him on the cheek, standing up from the bed. Chuck can see now that Humphrey senior is standing the doorway of the room. Serena is also with them, and she has seated herself in one of the chairs next to Chuck's bed, where he and Blair are situated comfortably. The pair have been inseparable since Blair returned from her brief sojourn to change clothes, enjoying their time alone together. Now it is clear that their most recent discussion will have to be resumed later.

"Have the doctors given any word on when you'll be released?" Lily asks. She is always so quick to get directly to business, Chuck thinks. This is what he respects about her. This and her fantastic taste in couture.

"I should be out before the week is over," Chuck responds. "She says everything is healing up nicely."

Lily nods, the strands of her platinum blonde hair, twisted into an elegant chignon, catching the light of the window as she takes a seat next to Serena. "Well, you could always come and stay with us," she offers. "We would love to have you. Especially with the holidays so near. Eric will be home from school soon, and I know he would love to see you."

Chuck smiles at the thought of what he and the youngest Van der Woodsen have done together. Things that Lily would not necessarily approve of. It certainly has been a while since they have done brotherly bonding things.

"Thank you for offering," Chuck says, touched. Because he knows that Lily means every word. "Maybe I will spend Christmas with the family, but for now I think I need to be home." He looks at Blair, whose eyes are smiling up at him from just below his shoulder, but who is trying not to let it spread to the rest of her features. She is clearly still holding on to their conversation of a few moments ago, in which he may have firmly told her off for suggesting that they should redecorate his place. But it is his home, not hers, and there will be no redecorating. It is perfect the way it is.

He caresses her side under the blanket, then gives her his best smoldering gaze. No one can resist the smoldering look.

Blair discreetly turns away, and the war is begun. Chuck smiles. He has missed his combats with Blair.

Later in the evening, long after their family has gone home, when the lights have all turned out and they are exhausted of all conversation, Blair curls up to his chest and pulls her feet up to tuck them between his legs. And Chuck bristles because her feet are freezing, and he is wearing only a paper thin gown, and no pants at all. Staying warm is hard enough as it is. But before he looks down to declare that his balls are not meant to be forced below room temperature, he is struck by the familiarity of their situation. The position that Blair has just put herself in – the position that she always sleeps in – is one that he remembers from her freshman year at NYU. He remembers long days at work, putting in hours at the office, in meetings, in business lunches and sometimes even dinners, and then coming home to find Blair asleep in his bed because she didn't want to go back to the dorms at NYU. Didn't want to spend hours, even unconscious, in the same room as Georgina.

In those days, when they were happy together and life hadn't pulled them apart yet, Chuck would crawl into bed, exhausted mentally and physically, but smiling because he had Blair there to comfort him. He'd slip under the cool satin sheets, curling his form around hers, and she would wake groggily, turning to tuck her feet between his legs, her head over his heart, just like it was now. And he would fall asleep with that smile, content in the presence of Blair, curled up into the fetal position before him like his baby. His Blair baby.

And at this memory, at the reminder of that certain part of his anatomy that Blair has so thoughtlessly chilled, Chuck is suddenly seized by a slow burning. It has been so long since Blair was his to sleep with, so long since he has felt her stir next to him, beneath him. So long since the days when they made love for hours into the night, insatiable for each other, consumed in their love for one another.

He reaches down to brush the hair that has fallen to cover her face, caresses her cheek before grabbing her face in his hand and bringing his lips to hers. When they kiss it's like a slow melting, both of them wrapped up in the feel of one another's lips, of tongues caressing. Chuck is mesmerized by the feel of her lips on his, by how soft they are. When Blair nips his tongue, Chuck is caught by surprise. He pulls back, giving her a stony look. "Why the hell did you just bite me?" he glowers, caressing his sore tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"For getting so defensive earlier," Blair says simply. Her face is all innocence, and she raises an eyebrow at him as if she can't believe he has forgotten. But he hasn't, he just simply thinks this isn't the right time to resume an argument.

"For goodness sake, woman, I was trying to seduce you," Chuck replies, his voice a bit husky from the heat of their kiss. Even now, eyes narrowed in the midst of putting her foot down, she is sexy as hell, and his head is a whirlwind of fantasies.

"I'm very aware of what you were doing," Blair responds haughtily. She doesn't say anything more, and Chuck examines her, spitfire eyes and sexily mussed hair from lying in bed with him all day. Their eyes lock in a battle of wills, and he wonders whether he should try kissing her again. But then she looks down, away from him, only he can't feel the pride of having won the argument. Because seconds before her eyes pull away he sees a flash of what he swears is fear. He reaches out to rest his fingers under her chin, pulling her face up, trying to catch her eyes again.

"What is it?" he asks, wondering what he has done. When she doesn't respond, he leans down and kisses her temple, descending little kisses along her hairline to her ear, before caressing the shell of her it gently with his teeth. He knows that this is one of her favorite spots, has made her scream at him for kissing this spot out of desperation, less desperate situations than the one he is currently experiencing. But it works, making her smile at the feel of his lips in that sensitive area.

So he continues, nibbling at the delicious skin of her neck below her ear, then gently caressing it with his tongue. His hands get antsy for the feel of her, and he brings them up under her shirt, his right hand coming to rest on the bare skin of her protruding belly. The intimacy of the gesture is stunning, and Chuck raises his head to meet her eyes, the emotions evident in their shared look intense and deeply felt.

She is lost in him, he knows, can see the passion swimming in her eyes, and he leans in for a kiss that, rather than cooling their heat for one another, fuels their desire. Their tongues battle each other for dominance, and Blair melts into his arms. He feels her breasts come to rest on his chest, wraps his arms around her to bring her closer. But she pulls away again, and Chuck opens his eyes in confusion, breathing hard.

She stares intently at him, her eyes searching his, and he tries desperately to provide whatever she is searching for. Whatever she needs to let this continue, to let him lose himself in her.

He brings a finger up to caress her cheek, feeling the heat of the blood running underneath her satiny smooth skin. She turns her face into his palm, breaking eye contact, kissing the tip of his finger softly before snaking her tongue out to trace wicked patterns across it. Chuck groans at the sight, and Blair's smile is hesitant, but the surge of longing she feels at the sound is impossible to ignore. Chuck is struck by how vulnerable she looks, and the image sends all of the blood rushing to his groin before he claims her lips again, pushing her back gently onto the bed, aware of the protrusion of her stomach and all that it means.

His hands race up the skin of her back, greedy for the feel of her, and he brings his lips to her neck, tracing her pulse with teeth and tongue. Blair moans beneath his ministrations, feeling like her body is on fire, feeling like her pulse will burn through her skin, leaving her a pile of ashes on the bed. She loves the way Chuck makes her feel, as if she is the only woman in the universe, the only woman in _his_ universe, and she is drowning in the sensations he brings to life within her. It is only when he tugs at her shirt to pull it over her head that the nerves come back. She grabs his hands in her own to prevent him from continuing, firmly enough that he looks up at her.

"It's been a long time," Blair whispers, trying to explain, wanting this awkwardness, this shyness, to return from where it's crawled out of to disturb her. "I looked a lot different then.." she continues, then trails off, feeling a lump in her throat, embarrassed that she is letting this affect her so strongly. She swallows, her throat dry. As Chuck watches, her eyes grow bright with moisture, and his own widen. He stretches up to kiss her fiercely, wanting to reassure her, needing her to know that he doesn't care what she looked like then, that she is beautiful in the throes of pregnancy. He pulls away, but doesn't move, stays there with his face inches from hers, his lips brushing hers as he whispers.

"Blair, you're beautiful."

She tries to swallow again, to push down the lump in her throat, but she is mortified to find that a single tear has escaped from her lashes. Chuck brings his lips to the salty trail it leaves behind, kissing her cheek gently, before looking into her eyes once more.

"I love you," he whispers.

Blair sniffles. "I love you, too."

When he brings his hands to the edges of her shirt again, Blair's heart leaps into her throat, but she allows him to gently tug it upwards. And then suddenly it is over her head, and Chuck is tossing it onto the floor. He doesn't look away from her eyes, giving her time to adjust to being undressed in front of him again, to this new awkwardness at her pregnant body. Louis had been there all along, watching her grow, and so sex with him had been different. It had been safe. Now Blair is reminded of every stretch mark that mars her delicate skin, of the way her boobs have grown enormously, gaining half a cup size in the past month alone.

Chuck slides his hands up along the sides of her stomach, caressing the skin there that is pulled so tightly around this baby. He trails fingertips around the swell of her, meets her eyes, and places a gentle kiss to the top of her stomach. He is so happy that she is here with him, happy that she is sharing her baby with him, and he tries to convey this in his kiss, in his caresses. As Blair watches, his hands rise to gently rest on her breasts, still covered by her bra. He kneads them gently, eyes still locked with hers, his gaze smoldering, and he watches as her eyes close, her head falling back at the sensation of his thumbs grazing her painfully erect nipples.

Chuck leans in to bite the skin of her neck that she reveals, his motions becoming firmer, more purposeful. She writhes under the attentions of his hands and mouth, bringing her palms up to press against his back, breathing erratically. Her breath catches as he curls a finger into her bra, tugging at her nipple, feeling like he is pulling a nerve linked directly to her core. At her reaction, he tugs again, watching her, enraptured by the sight of what he does to her. She mewls at the feeling, and his heart thuds loudly in his ears.

He picks her up from the bed, rolling so that he is lying down with her on top of him, reaches around her back to unclasp her bra. Before she can react to her new nakedness, he pulls a bare nipple into his mouth, caressing the sensitive peak with his tongue, and she hisses at the feeling. Sex with Chuck has always been good, but with all of the hormones rushing through her everything is electrifying, a thousand times more intense. When he grinds his groin against her center, it is all she can do not to scream with the pleasure. She is dripping, she knows, and she is so ready for him already that she grinds herself into him again, feeling the length of him through her pants, so thankful that he is only wearing underwear under his hospital gown.

Chuck knows that she is dripping, too, can feel the heat of it through her clothes. He kisses her, claiming her mouth with his and sliding his hands down from where they are resting on her hips, sliding them into her pants and underneath her underwear, caressing the skin of her ass and pulling her into him. Blair moans into his mouth, but it isn't enough, no matter how good it feels. She has too many clothes on, and he needs to hear her moan like that again, needs to hear her scream his name like she has so many times before. He is desperate for the feel of her, and he unbuttons her pants quickly, thrusting a hand down into her underwear. Blair gasps and pulls her lips from his when he swipes her wetness with his fingers, moans loudly when he drags a finger slowly between her swollen lips. He brings his lips to hers, unable to suppress a grin.

"You have to be quiet," he murmurs huskily, even as he slowly circles her opening with his finger. Blair opens sultry eyes, looking down at him distractedly. He knows that she is warring internally between the motions his finger is making and the words he is saying. He presses a finger slowly into her, watching her eyes shudder closed, watching her mouth open in a sexy 'o' of pleasure.

He is hard as a rock, watching as Blair finally gives in, rubs herself against him in an attempt to get him to penetrate her further, but he has stopped. She opens her eyes again in irritation, but before she can say anything to him, Chuck pushes his finger into her, using his other hand to press her down into him as he thrusts his hand slowly into her wetness. Blair is moaning loudly again, eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure, and he lets her ride his hand, thrusting in and out, in and out, watching her chest rise and fall in quivering breaths, her breasts shaking tantalizingly before him. He leans up to capture a nipple in his mouth and Blair shudders, keening at the pleasure she is in. Chuck immediately withdraws his finger, and Blair moans at the loss of contact.

"I said you have to be quiet," Chuck says again, and he grins, all too aware of the power he has over her. He is replaying Blair's sexy moans in his head, wanting to make her scream, blood pounding in his ears at how goddamn hot she is. But he has also missed teasing her, and Blair is feisty when she doesn't get what she wants. And that is sexy, too.

He rolls them over and presses her into the bed, trailing erotic kisses along her chest, over her stomach, pulling her pants and underwear over her hips until they, too, are on the floor. He jerks the tie at the back of his neck violently, his hospital gown falling slack, then being brushed hastily out of the way as Chuck continues trailing kisses over Blair's hip.

With her newly freed from her clothes, he pauses to look up at her, sees her watching him, takes in the bump of the baby from the perimeter of his eye. She is tousled and glowing and sexy, her breasts heaving with every breath she takes. And Chuck feels his heart bursting with love for her, can't imagine making love with any other pregnant woman and finding them so damn irresistible. He drags a hand up through her wetness, then pushes a finger into her again, leaning down to wrap his tongue around her clit, throbbing with need. She screams then, loud enough to carry, and Chuck is sad that he has to stop so soon.

When he pulls his finger from her, she groans so woundedly that it requires every fiber of strength in Chuck's being to crawl slowly up her body, away from where she so desperately wants him, and where he so desperately wants to be. He places his lips on hers when they are level with one another, lying on his side and tugging her with him, tugging her leg over his hip and thrusting two fingers inside of her, feeling her hips arch as she screams into his mouth. But this time he continues because his lips are firmly over hers, swallowing her cries for mercy or for more, he's not sure which. He thrusts his fingers into her depths again and again, swallowing her moans and gasps and feeling her inner walls convulsing around his hand. She is close, he can feel it, and so he thrusts just a little faster, pushing up into her and twisting to press that spot she loves, and she shatters beautifully around his hand. Inner walls convulsing, screaming her release into his mouth as he gasps for air, swearing that he has just come himself at the sound of her moaning. Every sound she makes is like music to his ears, like a drug to him.

While the tremors are still fresh, he moves his fingers within her again, feels her jolt with the sensation, her nails digging into the flesh of his back. She looks at him, overwhelmed with pleasure, but her hips grinding into his hand automatically to seek out more. He watches her, brings his thumb up to caress her clit, then pinches her nipple with his other hand, kissing her again when she moans. And before she knows it she is feels the tensions stirring again, clenching Chuck's fingers to pull them deeper into her body as she sobs into their kiss at how good it feels. Her whole body erupts in flames as she comes again, her skin alive with sensations.

She drops against Chuck, breathing hard in his ear. When Chuck pulls his fingers from her, she moans slightly, twitching at the feelings as she is winding down from her second orgasm. He caresses her back softly, although he is thrumming with need, high on the euphoria of being responsible for her pleasure.

When she has recovered some, Blair leans back to look at him, placing both hands on the sides of his face and caressing his jaw, the stubble of a few days without shaving. She is so overwhelmed with loving him right now, so happy to be in his arms, and she kisses him tenderly, their noses brushing, wanting to stay in this moment forever. And then she feels Chuck line himself up at her opening, feels him push into her, and she is lost in pleasure again.

She sits up, trying to gain some leverage of control, unable to make sense of how good it feels, how overwhelming the sensation is of having him inside her. She feels like she has been thrust into the bottom of an ocean, is struggling to get to the surface for air but unable to make it. She is drowning in the sensations, and as she is struggling for control Chuck stares up at her, pregnant stomach proudly thrusting out from above where they are joined, and thinks how different this is from the times before. But it is so much better than anything he has ever felt, and she is so beautiful, so radiant.

He begins moving, thrusting up into her and evoking sensations so acute that Blair cries out, at the mercy of his movements. She reaches out blindly, her nails grazing his chest, and Chuck locks his fingers with hers, pulls their hands to rest over his racing heart. He knows he won't last long, but he thrusts fervently, wanting them to come together. The tensions build up faster than he anticipated, but he hears Blair's breaths coming shorter and faster, and they are clashing their bodies together, reveling in how good it feels to be joined. When Blair's walls seize around him, Chuck comes blindingly hard, his hands coming to rest on the sides of her pregnant belly as if it is natural for them to rest there, as if that's where they've always belonged as he goes over the edge with her, emptying himself into her.

She is like a goddess, glowing in her ecstasy as she rides out her pleasure, sitting atop him. When she looks down, drained, he meets her eyes and pulls her in for a kiss, turning them to rest on their sides, her leg thrown over his. And then he begins moving again, slower this time, thrusting deeply, slowly into her. He reaches a hand around to grab her ass as he feels her arch into his motions, pulling her closer. They are kissing, a mix of lips and teeth and tongues as he continues this steady pace of thrusting. Because he is insatiable, wants more of her, couldn't possibly get enough. This is the first time in a long time that they have had access to each other, their reunion three days ago so short lived, so traumatizing for both of them.

They are reveling in being together, the sensation of being joined so familiar and so new all at once, so much more meaningful now with this tragedy behind them. And as they approach their peak again, Chuck finally loses himself to the sensation. This time when he comes it is like a force of nature, whipping through him and leaving him feeling he's been struck by lightning.

They lie together for a few moments, foreheads touching, and all Chuck can see is her. Her doe brown eyes are clouded with passion, her cheeks flushed from exertion. Chuck memorizes all of this, takes pride in it. He has finally reunited with the woman that he will spend the rest of his life with, spend the rest of his life bending over backwards for just to have the chance to make her scream like that again. He can't help the smile that takes over his face, reaching out to stroke her reddened cheek, and meeting her lips for a soft kiss.

Blair settles her head over Chuck's heart, listening to its rapid beating, still hurried from their lovemaking. Her entire body hasn't stopped tingling yet, but there is a slow sense of exhaustion coming over her, sweeping out from her nerve endings and leaving her lethargic, drained. She pulls her feet up to tuck them between Chuck's legs, warming her cold toes, and she feels Chuck stiffen, then relax again, putting an arm around her to pull her closer. He pulls the blankets up to cover them. And before she knows it she is asleep, her mind blissfully free of thoughts, but also free of the stress and worries that she has carried with her for so many months now. She is comforted by Chuck's presence, her little boy still inside her, as if he, too, is at peace.

Chuck stays up long into the night, too happy to sleep, too – dare he say it – giddy to be able to relax into slumber. He can't believe his luck still, and he is busy thinking cherished thoughts about the woman lying next to him. When he finally does fall asleep, he dreams that Blair has given birth to a baby girl, and he watches her grow up to become the perfect image of her mother. He loves her instantly, is a slave to she and Blair's happiness, can do nothing else all day long besides think of the two of them while he is at the office, wondering what they are doing.

And the best part is that he doesn't hate the image. In fact, it makes him smile.

**A.N. **Sorry it took me so long to finish this chapter! Life's been busy. What do you all think? Remember, an author's greatest motivation is feedback! Read and review please! xx K


	4. Chapter 4

Blair wakes abruptly from a nightmare – the details of which are already fading away – jolting upright in her panic and trying disorientedly to gather her bearings. She realizes that she is in Chuck's room, that she is in the hospital, and safe from whatever the dream may have startled her with, and then she goes about calming her breathing, soothing her frayed nerves, with a practiced mindset. She is used to nights like these, used to waking up in a panic because of her vivid imagination. She has long since dealt with the fact that her unconscious deals with her stress in her dreams. Within minutes she has resumed her normal heart rate, and as she turns to glance at Chuck, who hasn't been awakened from his own peaceful slumber by her nightmare, thank goodness, her heart and lungs get a sinking feeling. For she has just remembered the details of her nightmare, and the reason for her panic is lying right next to her.

She sighs, resigning herself to no more sleep tonight, and scoots back to lean herself against the headboard of the hospital bed. When she is resting against the cold metal, Blair looks at Chuck again before dropping her head defeatedly into her hands. What is she going to do?

She loves Chuck with every fiber of her being, of that she is sure. And she has no doubt that he will be excited about having a son – a true, blood related son – one through whom he can rectify all of his father's misgivings, all of his own demons, and whom he will cherish beyond anything he has ever loved. Including maybe her, but she would be okay with that. What she wouldn't be okay with is the way that Chuck would react when she told him the truth about their baby.

Their baby. Blair laughs bitterly. What kind of cosmic joke must she be, to have two great loves in one year – parallel opposites of one another, yes, but both instensely in love with her – and to have Chuck of all people be the one to withdraw gracefully, to give his blessing to her and Louis. At the moment when she'd finally decided that she couldn't live without him – couldn't escape the feelings she held for him, through all of their darkness and chaos. At the moment when they'd conceived their first child.

Blair remembers that night as if it was yesterday, all of the details of her heart-wrenching feelings fresh in her memory. She had been terrified, yes – she had dreaded telling Louis that she couldn't marry him, couldn't give him all of herself because she was irrevocably in love with Chuck. But that fear had been overwhelmed by a feeling of absolute certainty so strong that even she couldn't argue with it anymore. _This is right_, she remembers telling herself on the way back to Louis at the consulate. _We are right. And we need to fight for us because I love him too much not to. If we spend every day struggling to make us work, it will be better than spending every day without him._

And just as the act of making love with Chuck had been the cement in her resolve that she couldn't spend the rest of her life without him, just as their union had been a beginning to a new chapter of their relationship, it had also been the creation of their greatest achievement. Blair is content in the knowledge that their child was created in a moment of absolute love, of absolute trust and consent and happiness. This baby is the product of the absolute love of Chuck and Blair. Nothing can rival that, in any shape or form, and Blair carries that knowledge with her, uses its strength to soothe her when she is anxious about Chuck's reaction. Because she hadn't known until it was too late, hadn't known until Chuck had blindsided her with his resolve that they were _not_ meant to be together, that she couldn't be happy with him. And she knows in her heart that Chuck will eventually understand that, and will understand that their child deserves an upbringing with two happy parents.

She just doesn't know how long it will take him to reach that understanding.

As scared as she had been to end her relationship with Louis that night so long ago, it doesn't hold even a tenth of the paralyzing terror that enshrouds her now at the thought of losing Chuck. How can she risk their relationship when he's already taken her back with open arms, so acceptingly, so willing to accommodate her and her unborn child, to rearrange his life for her? How can she reveal her lie, break his trust in her, when he'd made love to her so tenderly last night, when she'd seen the love in his eyes as he'd looked at her and felt overwhelmed by it. Cocooned by it. How could she risk losing that?

Blair sighs again, massaging her thin fingers over her temples in an attempt to soothe the growing throbbing there. And how selfish could she be, she asks herself, to consider keeping this secret even a second longer?

As the truth of this overwhelms her, her roiling mass of emotions lodges itself somewhere in her throat, and Blair feels herself succumbing to her latest manifestation of her excess pregnancy hormones – crying. Deep, heart wrenching sobs consume her frame, tears flooding up to spill over onto her cheeks as she tries to keep herself quiet, tries not to disturb Chuck because he cannot see her like this. But she is slowly becoming overwhelmed by her stress and anxiety, and the torrent of tears is only growing stronger, so she turns away from Chuck, dropping her feet over the edge of the bed and searching quickly for her slippers, trying to keep her sobs contained. Where are her clothes? She thinks desperately. Why is it so impossible to see anything?

And then she feels fingers brush her lower back, hears a tentative "Blair?", and she sucks in a quick breath, trying to quiet her sobs.

"Hey," she whispers without turning around. Her voice is clear, no hint of any distress. "It's alright, go back to sleep."

But luck is not on her side. Chuck scoots closer to her edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around her bare midsection gently. He places a kiss in the dimple on her lower back (Blair knows the exact spot, has had Chuck point it out to her a million times during their more tender moments), and lies his head on her pillow. "Where are you going?"

Blair feels a tear slip down her cheek, and although she has the intense urge to sniffle, she can't or it will alarm Chuck. She tries to breathe through her mouth, wishing furiously for the tears to stop, for her hormones to calm down. "I'm just – " But what can she say? Her thoughts are too chaotic for her to come up with a valid excuse, and before she can gather them a small hiccupy sob has escaped her lips, and Chuck is slowly sitting up behind her.

"What's wrong?" he asks, and as he is sitting up to lean against the headboard he leans around to look at her face. She quickly turns away from him. _Shit. Shit shit shit. _What now? She isn't ready for this, will never be ready for this, but then Chuck tugs her shoulder gently so that she is leaning back against him, and he kisses her temple and runs his fingers gently through her hair. This is enough motivation for hormonal Blair to take over, and she dissolves into sobs once again amidst his tender caress and his soothing whispers of "shhh" in her ear.

Ten minutes of tears later, Chuck is growing concerned. What he once thought was post coital emotion is starting to look like something entirely different, and Blair doesn't seem to be stopping. He takes hold of Blair's frame, gently turning her to face him. "Blair, what is it?"

Blair can't meet his eyes, is instead staring down at his chest, and she squeezes her eyes tightly closed at his words for a moment. When she opens them, she looks at him with such an expression of fear and guilt that Chuck feels his heart freeze in his chest. Is she leaving him?

He stares numbly at her as she begins speaking in a low voice, interrupted by the occasional sniffle. He is incapable of speaking for fear that his thoughts have truth to them, is unable to process what a life without Blair will look like now that he has finally gotten her back. His ears are buzzing loudly, a gaping hole throbbing in his chest from the warning shot his thoughts have fired.

"I love you, Chuck," Blair is saying. "And I'm so sorry to have to tell you this. I don't know how to tell you this – " She stops, unsure of what to say, and no words will come.

Chuck feels himself reach out to her, grabs her delicate wrists in his hands, feeling her pulse racing under his fingers and wishing his hands were manacles, wishing he could encage her permanently within the confines of his life. "What is it?" Is all he can ask. It's the only thought his brain keeps repeating over and over in his head.

Blair settles on an approach and begins speaking again. "Do you remember the night that you saved me from Thorpe?" She takes Chuck's slight downward movement of his chin to mean yes, and continues. "The night we went to the bat mitzvah..the night we, um – "

Chuck stops her. "Yes, I remember."

Blair looks at Chuck, stares into the eyes she loves so much, stares through them, into them – searching for some sort of understanding. "I knew that night that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. And I'm sorry that it took me this long to act on it."

Chuck feels himself melt, his heart warming at her words. She is not leaving him. He brings her hands up to his lips, kissing the backs of them.

Blair, however, feels the tears drying on her cheeks building up behind her eyes again. Her vision blurs for a moment as she anticipates his reaction to what comes next. Without wanting to, she continues. "I shouldn't have let you give Louis your blessing. I should have stayed with you – " She chokes on the words, her sobs overwhelming her and her heart beating so fast that she feels lightheaded.

Chuck squeezes her hand, his heart going out to her at her obvious distress. But he lets her finish, knowing that she needs to get whatever it is off her chest.

When Blair has caught her breath, she looks up at Chuck again. "There are so many things that I should have done differently.."

She looks so vulnerable, is so clearly in need of his forgiveness, that Chuck himself feels guilty. "Blair, we all make mistakes," he tries to reassure her. "I know that our relationship isn't perfect. But we're here now. That's what matters."

Blair nods tentatively after a moment. She tightens her hold on his hands, wishing this wasn't so difficult. "When I – when I found out I was pregnant..I was so scared, Chuck. I was so scared that I didn't want to find out who the father was." She snorts, leaning down to wipe her eyes. "Humphrey had to practically force me to open the paternity test."

Chuck smiles at her words, but it doesn't reach his eyes. She can tell he's trying to understand. He's trying to figure out where this is all coming from, and she fears that it's starting to come together for him.

"But you seemed to have found such peace," she whispers, looking down at their joined hands. "You were doing so well in your life, and I didn't want to complicate it. I didn't feel like I had the right to when you gave your blessing to mine and Louis' relationship. It felt like a line I couldn't cross somehow." She knows she is rambling, and she knows she should just cut to the chase, but she doesn't know if she has the strength to watch his face crumble. Or worse, to watch it harden towards her.

"I came to visit you.." she trails off, remembering the night she'd told him she was pregnant. The night that she'd told him that she was carrying Louis' child.

Chuck is remembering that night, too, and he closes his eyes at the pain that has begun blooming in his chest. He is remembering Blair's face, her actions, every word that was said between them. Only now it is tinged in a slightly different light. He is reliving all of these things with a heavy feeling of suspicion.

"Blair – " he says, but he can't finish the sentence. Can't put his suspicions into words. She wouldn't.

She looks at him, trying to hold herself together because this is the only way. "I lied to you, Chuck."

And then she bursts into tears, unable to help herself. "I didn't know what to do, what was best." She is blubbering now – fat, emotional tears rolling down her blotchy cheeks. Her fair skin is stained red with despair. "You told me we couldn't be happy together the day that you let me go. You told me that I should be with Louis. When I found out I was carrying our child I couldn't imagine you and I being parents. I couldn't imagine us raising a baby together. And it was so easy to just let everything continue as it was, to tell Louis the baby was his." As all of the words tumble out, Blair can feel herself growing desperate. She has been carrying so much guilt with her for so many months now that it's cathartic to finally voice it. Her string of words comes to a halt, however, when Chuck pulls his hands from hers. He stares at her, his face unreadable.

"The baby is mine?" he asks.

Blair can only nod in response to his question. Her eyes are wide, finally taking in the stiff set of his shoulders and the anguish radiating from his body.

Chuck is numb. "You lied to me," he says, and it is not an accusation, but rather a statement of fact, as if he were telling her that it was going to rain. His voice is emotionless.

Blair reaches out to rest her hand on his, but feels him stiffen under her touch. "Yes I did, Chuck, but I didn't – "

Chuck holds a hand up to stop her mid sentence. "Did you have a paternity test done? Are you sure it's mine?"

Blair nods, and Chuck feels a sense of elation sweep over him, so intense that it floors him. He looks at her stomach in wonder for a moment, stunned speechless. His expression is one similar to that of a man who has just been given the opportunity of a lifetime. Blair watches this, sees the emotions flicker behind his features. Surprise. Excitement. Happiness. All of the emotions that Blair knew he would feel, was reassured that he would feel rather than their antithesis. But then there is hurt, a pain so intense that it shows through on his face before he can even think to mask it. A pain that tugs at Blair's heartstrings, makes her feel like a monster for having caused it. She doesn't know what to say, nor what he needs from her. He already has the truth. What comes next lies solely in his hands.

The room is silent for so long that Blair's ears are ringing from the lack of sound. She is watching Chuck so intensely, all of her senses attuned to him, waiting for him to say something. Do something. Anything to relieve this terrible guilt she feels for the bombshell she has dropped on him. She'd known that this wouldn't be simple, that it couldn't possibly be easy, but at this moment every cell in her body is tensed, so hyper aware of the fact that Chuck is hurting - because of her no less, and of the fact that he could quite possibly choose to walk away right now. The stress she feels is nauseating, making her want to hurl herself into the bathroom and purge her body of everything it consists of at this moment. The pull is so strong that it is an ache, a pain in her lungs that she feels with every breath, and the urge is so compelling that everything in her is telling her to run. But she is terrified to move, scared that this will trigger a reaction from Chuck, even though that is what she is so desperately waiting for.

Finally, Chuck looks at her, his eyes red, as if he may cry at any moment. This, Blair feels, is her ultimate punishment – the sight of the man she loves on the verge of tears. Because displaying feelings like this is so rare for Chuck that it intensifies the meaning of them. She feels a tear slip down her own cheek as he meets her eyes, his face rigid with his efforts to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill.

"I can't believe – " he begins, but his voice wavers, and he looks down at his hands, shaking his head slowly. When he looks up again, his eyes hold a spark of anger.

"I can't believe you would keep something like this from me," he says, no accusation in his tone despite the upset in his features. He is too wounded to be angry.

Blair is frozen, unmoving, a deer in headlights under his pained gaze. She sucks in a very thin breath, because that is all she can manage to do for the time being. Just keep breathing.

Chuck looks at her stomach again for a moment, a tenderness in his eyes. He wants to touch it, wants to place his hands around his little girl, to feel her. But she is cocooned by Blair, firmly ensconced within this woman who has lied to him, and he is torn so completely by his own emotions that he is unsure what to do. He needs to be alone, needs to process all of this.

"I want you to leave," he hears himself say before he has even thought it through.

Blair hears it and feels a sharp stab of panic rock her. She instinctively reaches out to grab Chuck's arms, not wanting him to push her away. This is what she was most afraid of.

"Chuck, please don't – " she begins, her words scrambling over one another in her brain as her heart races, the resulting quick, shallow breaths she is sucking in making her lightheaded. _Chuck wants her to leave!_ her desperate heart is screaming. This can't be what causes them to end. She loves him too much.

Chuck doesn't move away from her, but he meets her panicked gaze head on. "I need time alone, Blair," he says firmly.

Blair closes her eyes to his closed off features, tries to calm herself down. This kind of stress can't be good for the baby. She needs to get herself under control.

"Okay," she gasps out, and Chuck hears the angst in the single word, wants to reach out in comfort as she is clearly in distress. But his hurt keeps him still. He watches as she slowly pulls her arms back, hugging herself. She looks around the floor for her scattered clothes, removed so carelessly just a few hours before in the haze of passion. Now she is gathering them with a cold sense of clarity, her lungs cold as ice within her small frame, every breath a frozen dose of reality. She has fucked up, her thoughts keep repeating. Immensely. And it hurts so intensely to be walking away from Chuck, the pain amplifying as the distance grows, both emotionally and physically. She looks at him after she is dressed, seeming so lost sitting in his hospital bed alone. This is how it felt to watch over him the first few days after the accident, his unconsciousness a firm wall between them that she couldn't break through. But even then she'd known he would come back to her. She had known that he would open his eyes and be just as elated to see her there as she would be to see him staring back at her. Now she is throbbing with the knowledge that he has spurned her, turned her away from him, and there is nothing she can do but comply with his wishes and hope that with time she can fix this irreparable rift in their relationship.

Chuck doesn't watch her gather her things. He can't take her hurt and pain along with his own, and he looks up only after the door has closed behind her. As the awareness of his isolation sinks in, the air in the room seeming to press in on him suffocatingly, he feels a tear fall from his lashes. He has a daughter, he thinks. And the knowledge leaves him raw, the multitude of surfacing emotions causing more tears to fall. _He is going to have a little girl._

And now that he is safely alone, he allows his tears to overwhelm him.


	5. Chapter 5

"What do you think of this one, dear?" Eleanor asks, holding up a lace gown in a vintage silhouette, complete with mother of pearl buttons lining the back.

"It looks lovely, mother," Blair responds, her eyes tracing the contours of the dress, noting the off coloring of the buttons in comparison to the fabric of the dress. "I like the satin one better," she adds. She's tired, and her feet are throbbing from the heels she insisted on wearing on this outing (against Dorota's persistent arguments), but she realizes that her mother is frowning at her and she straightens herself on the bench in the Valentino boutique, meeting her mother's gaze and smiling. She should be supportive and enthusiastic today. It's her mother's anniversary, after all, and Blair promised to help her decide what to wear for tonight's dinner plans.

Eleanor's attention drifts back to the garment in her hand. She lingers for a moment, then replaces the dress on the rack. "You're right," she sighs. "I don't think anything will top the satin one."

She extends her hand to Blair to assist her from her seat, a natural gesture that she's developed over the past few weeks or so, as Blair has started to get rounder, and her feet are slowly disappearing from her line of vision. Once Blair is standing, they proceed to the checkout counter, where the chosen dress is awaiting their decision.

"I'll take it," Eleanor addresses the saleswoman who assisted them with trying it on. The woman nods briskly, proceeding to quickly charge the dress to Eleanor's account. She is used to the Waldorf attention span, knows there is never any time to spare with these incredibly busy and powerful women, and understands that, once their mind is made up on a purchase, there is no need to coerce them any further.

When the saleswoman has been given instructions for the dress' delivery, Blair follows her mother out of the store and onto the busy sidewalk, her Louis Vuitton handbag earning jealous gazes from passerby. She can't help but to smile internally at their attentions. The handbag was a treat for herself – her last real handbag before everything is in diaper bags and breast pump carriers.

This brings her thoughts to the months ahead; months of pushing strollers and minimal moments of solitude. She wants to sigh at the thought. She is so tired _already_, can hardly sleep through the night as it is, and she can't imagine what life will be like with her little nudger on the outside of her body, demanding her attention 24/7. She misses her long nights of sleep, uninterrupted by constant bathroom breaks and discomfort. She already feels like a shadow of herself in the past week, but she is attempting valiantly to keep her appearances up, if only for her own reassurance. If she seems up to her normal standards to everyone else, then it isn't too difficult to convince herself of the same illusion.

Anyone passing them on the street would think that Blair's thoughts are blissfully stress free, no cloud over her head at all. She is radiant in her pregnancy, the maternity Vera Wang blouse she is wearing glowing ruby against her fair skin and rosy cheeks in the December chill. She appears untroubled, as composed as ever, but inside she is struggling to maintain this façade. Too little sleep has her normally crisp mind at a disadvantage. This week she has struggled to stay alert during her appointments: interviews with magazine editors making inquiries about her newly completed nursery, and pre-school officials (it is essential that her child be on the list of attendees for the 2016 school year), all of whom need application paperwork filled out and questions addressed. Through it all she has held her head high, smiled graciously at any difficult people while internally seething at them, and kept herself meticulously groomed. Now it is Friday, her mother is set to be out of the house in a matter of hours, leaving Blair to her own devices, and she is wondering how much forewarning Dorota requires to draw a bath and bake her a cake, for that is what she is craving tonight. That and a good night's sleep.

Her cell phone rings, disrupting her thoughts. The screen displays the number for the florist, and, confused, Blair answers on the second ring.

"This is Blair Waldorf."

After a moment, she scowls. "No, that is not an acceptable alternative. Nothing is acceptable excepting what I've already chosen with you."

Her mother turns to stare at her.

"No, I specified yellow roses for a reason. They're sentimental to the recipient," Blair argues. After a moment, she nods her head, her features relaxing slightly. "Do what you have to. I'll pay the difference. But they must arrive tonight." She snaps her phone shut, letting out a whoosh of breath. Turning to face her mother, she frowns.

"Is everything alright?" Eleanor asks, taking in Blair's air of irritation.

"Yes," Blair responds. "It was the florist. They wanted to deviate from my original order because they have a shortage in supply."

Eleanor nods, but doesn't inquire as to where the flowers are going. If she recalls correctly, yellow roses were in the wedding photographs of the late Mrs. Bass.

"Where do you want to eat for lunch?" she asks instead, changing the subject. Blair shrugs enough to communicate her indecision, aware that the gesture is unflattering at her current weight. She straightens her back, her posture gaining a reassuring inch of height. She must appear her best, should Gossip Girl publish a photo of her.

"Lets try 5th avenue," Eleanor suggests, and they climb into their car. As the driver signals to merge into traffic, Blair reflects on her conversation with the florist. It is not only Eleanor and Cyrus' wedding anniversary, but also the anniversary of the day that Chuck found out that his mother was no longer living. The day that Jack stole his company out from under him. Blair hopes that sending a bouquet will remind him that he is in her thoughts. She has missed him this week. Immensely. She knows that the space is good for him, and that he needs time, but she feels like a part of her is missing without him.

She doesn't get much time to reflect on the sad state of things, however, because soon they are pulling up to the curb outside of the restaurant her mother has chosen (she feels guilty about not having much of an opinion, but really this is a small thing and so shouldn't be dwelt upon). As the driver comes around to open the door, Blair checks her complexion in her compact before slipping it away into her bag. Then she straightens her shoulders, ready to step out onto the sidewalk and resume her mother-daughter bonding. The show must go on.

* * *

There is a line down the block for entry into the Empire tonight, and Chuck feels a sense of smug satisfaction as he stares down at those who are waiting from his vantage point at his pent house window. He planned it that way.

Tonight is the Holiday Charity Gala, meant to inspire those with deep pockets to donate to those less fortunate in the hopes of gaining access to the mysterious entertainment Chuck has booked for the evening. The event has been planned for months, and this week would have been a strain to get everything finalized if not for his event planners' smooth finesse in his time of absence. Chuck had come out of the hospital at the beginning of the week expecting to be wrapped up in details for days, but instead had encountered that a well-organized team had risen up in his wake. Everything had been ordered and booked, all I's dotted and T's crossed. Thank goodness his father had only hired the best. Now Chuck is standing in the living room of the penthouse, drinking a glass of scotch in toast to one more success. One more notch on his belt. He is moving up the track just fine, doing just what his father wanted of him. It is a shame that Bart Bass isn't alive to see his son today, standing well dressed in a Lanvin suit in the penthouse of the company that he's seen flourish under his hands.

Chuck is sad that his father isn't here to share this with him, but secretly he is glad, too, for that means that Bart Bass also cannot snatch everything away from him. It has been a lot to absorb, this reverse in what Chuck had thought was his reality, and he has spent a lot of time going over details in his head, trying to manage what is real and what is only now a vague memory.

There are several things that stand out as sources of relief in Chuck's mind – the fact that Nate wasn't sleeping with his mother, for one. Diana Payne is in the past now, no longer a part of their every day, and his father is long gone.

Chuck has come to this conclusion after a lot of intense consideration. There is really no realistic way that his father can still be alive. His father's reappearance really should have been the number one sign that something wasn't right, he thinks now. No one in their right mind should have believed that Bart Bass was back from the dead. Even Satan cannot pull off that miracle.

Chuck takes a sip from his scotch, taking a moment to savor its bitter flavor before turning away from the window. His eyes come to rest on a bouquet of flowers – yellow roses that guard the front entry hall, their color reverberating around the room in the sunlight shining in from the windows. They are from Blair, of course. A token in remembembrance of Elizabeth, no doubt, and all that they've been through together. Unable to stop himself, he walks to the card, reading it again despite having already memorized its words.

'_I can't deny that our path has been complicated,_

_But love makes everything simple._

_I'm sorry.'_

The message is short, but Chuck remembers hearing the words once before, can feel their meaning engraved around his heart. This is what Blair said to him the night that he almost proposed – the night they almost began their life together. Only at that point, Chuck was the one who had needed the forgiving.

Chuck knows that Blair is truly sorry for her omission. He is not an unintelligent gentleman, and if he is honest with himself, he knows that Blair would not be Blair without her secrets. He is aware that he will eventually have to deal with her, and with things between them. But for now, he is happy to be back in his penthouse, going about his everyday routine and getting back to business. It is a relief to be immersed in his life's details because he'd thought all was lost just a week ago. Before he'd woken up to find that his entire life had ceased to progress past the night of that fatal accident, he'd been going through a rollercoaster of experiences and emotions. He'd thought Blair had fallen for Humphrey's downtrodden dog-like appeal, and he'd had to bankrupt his company to pay off her dowry after going through the heartbreaking experience of watching her marry Louis.

He is emotionally exhausted. This week has been a nice return to normalcy, and a rare chance to relax. Because while life with Blair is never dull, it can be utterly exhausting both physically and emotionally.

His cell phone rings, breaking him free of his reverie.

"Is everything proceeding as planned?" Chuck answers, after seeing that the caller is one of his hotel managers.

"Indeed, sir. Doors will open in ten minutes, right on schedule."

"Perfect," Chuck purrs. Nothing oils his gears like an event that runs smoothly.

"You have a visitor, sir. Should I send him up?"

Chuck is unsure of who would be paying him a visit, but acquiesces offhandedly before hanging up the phone. Why wonder when he could find out in less than five minutes' time?

After a moment the elevator bell rings, signaling the arrival of his mystery guest, and Chuck is greeted by the sight of one Dan Humphrey, effectively ruining his mouthful of scotch. Swallowing slowly, Chuck walks to meet him, looking the smaller man over in a way that is sure to unnerve him. He has some debts to settle with Humphrey anyway, and at least now he won't have to send word out to Brooklyn.

"Good evening, Humphrey," Chuck drawls. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Dan looks him square in the eye. "I'm here to talk about Blair."

Chuck prides himself on not losing his calm just hearing Blair's name come out of Humphrey's mouth. If this is any sign, this conversation may just go over smoothly.

"And just what do you have to talk about that concerns Blair?" Chuck asks, looking down his nose at Dan and hoping that her name won't leave his lips again.

"I want to know why you aren't both here, or there – whatever. Why aren't you together, celebrating your happy reunion? Blair left Louis for you. You should be with her right now, not drinking alone in your penthouse."

"Well, I must say that I'm flattered by your concern for my loneliness, Humphrey. But I can assure you that it is none of your business."

"It is my business," Dan argues, beginning to lose his temper. "I brought her to you because I know that she still loves you. You didn't see her when she got off the phone with you, Chuck. She was heartbroken. I don't know what it is between you two, but she would do anything for you. Including leaving the father of her child. So I don't know what your problem is, but I know it's your fault that you aren't together right now. I can't believe that Blair would have any reason to be anywhere else. So I'm here to tell you to pull your head out of your ass and go be with the woman you love. Because –" Dan falters for a moment, clearly derailing himself from whatever his tangent was leading him to say. Chuck stands staring at him, too livid to interrupt him. How dare he assume he could prance in and be Blair's knight in shining armor? This behavior is only confirming Chuck's suspicion that Humphrey is irreversibly infatuated. He will not call it love, but merely Humphrey's silly delusion of it.

"Because you love her," Dan finally regains his ability to speak. "And whatever the reason is that you're apart right now, it will pass. But you two are forever being led back to one another."

Chuck takes a step closer to remind Humphrey of his height advantage in his dress shoes, but maintains his calm façade. It is not Humphrey's business to know how upset he is.

"That was quite the speech, Humphrey," he says, a decibel above an icy whisper. "But you should consider how it looks when you speak so valiantly for someone whom you hate."

Dan looks flustered. "I don't hate Blair," he stutters. "I just – we don't see eye to eye on a few things." He finally decides on an approach to save face, knowing that if he admits that he doesn't hate her then it is one step closer to admitting how he really feels. But Chuck is not fooled, thanks to his unconscious' uncanny insight. Perhaps there have been signs all along.

"Regardless, your intentions – though valiant - are misplaced. I needed some space from Blair. She is a woman of many secrets, and while I'll admit that I was unaware that she was taking solace last week in your modest home in Brooklyn, there are apparently a few things that she's kept from you as well. Louis isn't the father, Humphrey. I am."

Chuck has no idea what caused him to say this, whether it is his fierce new pride in the knowledge that he is soon to be a father or something else entirely, but the effect on Humphrey is visible. Dan's jaw is hanging open, forgotten in his shock. The poor boy is even speechless.

Chuck watches him in thinly veiled annoyance, but there is a teeny portion of his metaphorical chest that is puffed out in pride. Humphrey is the first person he has told.

"I did not see that coming," Dan finally says, pulling his hands from where they had been resting in his pockets and bringing them up to drag down either side of his face. When he is bent at the waist, voice aimed at the floor, he asks "Is this why you're not speaking, then?"

"Yes," Chuck admits. He moves to the bar to refill his drink, then empties the glass in one gulp before refilling it again. He doesn't bother to offer Humphrey a glass, although from all appearances he needs it more than Chuck does. When his glass is full again, he turns to survey Dan leaned double in the foyer.

"Have a seat, Humphrey," Chuck sighs, seating himself on the sofa in the living room. Eventually, Dan joins him, and they sit silently for a time whilst Dan collects himself.

"Congratulations," Dan finally says.

Chuck snorts. "Thanks."

"This still doesn't change what I said," Dan says after another moment.

Chuck looks at him sharply. "As I've already said, that's none of your business, Humphrey," he snarls.

"Oh, come off it," Dan replies, seeing Chuck's scowl. "You love her, don't you?"

"That has nothing to do with it," Chuck replies, and Dan could swear he is doing a dignified sort of pouting. Leave it to Chuck Bass.

"But it does," Dan says quietly. "If you love her, then you should understand – I'm not _saying_ that what she did was right," he hurries on, seeing Chuck ready to argue once more. "But what I'm saying is that you've already lost a lot of time." Dan takes a moment to let that sink in, and when he's satisfied that Chuck is really listening to him, he continues. "Life got in the way of these first couple of months, but pregnancy – it's supposed to be this magical time of mixed up arguments and cravings and lots and lots of sex." Dan laughs at the look on Chuck's face when he hears this. "Yes, that's what I said. I was sad that I'd missed out on that with Milo," he reflects, thinking back to his time raising the newborn with Georgina. "And when he or she is born, that's a whole different experience. But you should at least be a part of the now, while you can. Don't let a momentary disagreement rob you of that."

Chuck is lost for thought, absorbing what Humphrey is saying. Admittedly, it is wise. And Chuck's internal clock has been ticking all week – he knows that he will eventually have to talk to Blair. Has known it all week long. Because he _is_ in love with her. And he doesn't want this to come between them. But he is so angry with her for not telling him about the baby that he isn't ready to give in yet.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Dan asks. "I could be there if you need me to."

Humphrey has overstepped his bounds. It's time for him to go, Chuck thinks. Before his heroism becomes suffocating.

"No, Humphrey," he drawls, a corner of his mouth lifting. "I don't think that's necessary."

He stands, raising his arm to encourage Dan to do the same. "It was a pleasure that you stopped by, but I think that you had best be going."

Dan stands and looks at him, but stays infuriatingly still. "I meant what I said, Chuck," he says, his expression unreadable. Chuck tries hard not to roll his eyes.

"I'm aware, Humphrey," he replies, and, finally, Dan begins moving back towards the elevator from whence he came. "Your insight is…unmatched."

Dan knows that this is meant to be a thinly veiled insult, but he senses a grain of truth in the statement. He nods, feeling that his intentions have been accomplished.

"Talk to her, Chuck," he says seriously, before departing the penthouse.

Alone once again, Chuck stands ruminating in silence. He walks to the window, glancing down to confirm that the line has already begun to be admitted. Finishing his drink, he replaces the tumbler on the bar before making his way to his bedroom.

The party is ensuing, and Chuck's own personal party hasn't even begun.

* * *

Blair is buried up to the neck in bubbles, lounging in the freestanding Victorian tub that she insisted on ordering in two months into her pregnancy. The bathroom is filled with the heady scent of jasmine – Blair's favorite since she became pregnant. She is dozing in the tub, dreaming of the German chocolate cake that she has sent Dorota out to retrieve for her, when her fantasy bite is interrupted by an unobtrusive knock on Serena's side of the door.

"Come in," Blair calls, and in walks her best friend. She is dressed in a frothy mix of mint colored silk and white tulle. The effect is dazzling with her hair draped over one shoulder, gleaming with bejeweled hair pins.

"In the bath again?" Serena jokes. "I'm afraid you might turn into a mermaid."

"I find it relaxes me," Blair replies. "I've been looking forward to this all day. I thought you were Dorota coming back with the German chocolate cake that I've also been dreaming about."

"No macaroons?" Serena jokes. This was Blair's craving for the first 4 months.

"No," Blair sighs. "I fear I may never eat macaroons again. I've lost my taste for them." She looks sincerely upset about this, and Serena laughs at her expression.

"Well, don't lose hope," she teases. "I just came to tell you that I was leaving. I'm meeting Nate at the party so that we can cover it in the Spectator tomorrow."

"Well, have a good time for me," Blair encourages, clasping her hands together. "I'll be soaking and living the quiet life that pregnant ladies are supposed to lead."

Serena laughs again, shaking her head at Blair's antics. "I will," she promises on her way out of the room. "Have a good night!"

Serena hasn't been gone five minutes before Blair comes to the conclusion that she is pruney and hot. Rising from the water carefully, so as not to allow her enormous stomach to dislodge half of the tub's contents, she reaches for the towel Dorota left on a nearby ledge for her and dries her ivory skin carefully, reaching for her silk robe. She doesn't tie it, as it won't fit around her midsection anymore, but merely leaves it to hang, the material clinging to her breasts and hips as she walks from the bathroom to the bedroom.

When she sees Chuck sitting on her bed, she jumps five solid feet into the air. Once she's registered who exactly is sitting on her bed, she curses her vulnerable state of dress, wishing she had something to decently cover herself with, but unwilling to fidget with the robe and give away just how nervous she really is that he is here.

Chuck, for his part, is taking in the sight of her with ravenous intensity. She is a siren, wrapped up delectably in silk and lace trim. At her startled reaction to seeing him, he stands and makes his way toward her, placing an arm around her shoulder and leading her to the bed. Once there, he sits her down, placing two hands on her shoulders. "Relax. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Blair doesn't say anything, only stares up at him with wide eyes, biting back any retort. A moment of silence passes between them. They drink in the sight of one another, each one regretting their week apart.

"Hi," Blair finally whispers.

"Hi," Chuck says back, grinning sheepishly.

"What are you doing here?" Blair asks, her eyes searching his. "I haven't heard from you all week." Even as she is saying it, Blair is chastising herself for admitting that she has let this bother her. But it has.

"I wanted to say something," Chuck replies. He looks away, his gaze directed at the window, but his eyes are far from the room he is currently standing in. When he looks at Blair again, his expression is solemn. "I was angry," he begins, but then he stops. He doesn't know what else to say, but that isn't an explanation.

"I know," Blair is still whispering. She doesn't trust her voice just yet. "I understand."

"I'm still angry," Chuck says finally. He shrugs. "I'm really pissed at you, Blair."

Blair blinks back the tears that are threatening to spill over her lashes. She hates it when he's angry. It's even worse when she knows she's caused it. "I know," she whispers, and with it comes a sob that Blair swallows back arduously. Her face remains dry as she stubbornly holds back the tears. This is not the moment.

Chuck's eyes sear into hers, making her feel stripped and raw before him. She is aware that her heart is beating fast.

"But I missed you," Chuck says, reaching up a thumb to carress her cheek.

It's so good to hear him say it. Blair's heart sings.

"I've missed you, too," Blair replies, bringing her hand up to cover his.

The first kiss is tentative, a mere brush of lips and a request from both of them. Blair melts at the touch, bringing her arms to wrap around Chuck's neck. When their lips meet again, it is fireworks and an all-consuming inferno. Their lips fuse, molding to one another's repeatedly as they lose themselves in the reunion. When Chuck pulls back, they are gasping. Blair's lips are swollen and pink, her eyes still tightly closed. When she opens them, Chuck is staring back at her.

He disentangles himself from her arms, but doesn't let go of her hands, taking a seat next to her on the edge of the bed.

"I love you, Blair," Chuck tells her, taking in her damp hair and makeupless features. She is still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to have this baby with you, and I want to marry you." As he is speaking, Chuck pulls out an all too familiar velvet box, opening it to reveal the Harry Winston engagement ring that he'd picked out for her two years previously. Blair gasps, mesmerized by his movements, her eyes wide. When he slips down to the floor, resting on one knee, she can no longer hold back her tears.

"As long as you promise me that you will never lie to me again." Chuck looks up at her after this statement, unable to keep himself from grinning. "In which case I reserve the right to severely punish you in any way that I see fit." His eyes are twinkling.

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf," Chuck began, his voice low with emotion. He reached to hold her hand in his, caressing the groove of her thumb with his fingers. "I promise that I will love you and our children with every part of me for every day of the rest of our lives. I promise you that no matter what challenges we may face, although it seems like we've already faced the world, I will always come back to you. You know every part of me. You once told me that the darkest thought I've ever had, you would stand by me. I would be honored if you would become my Mrs. Bass. Would you do me the honor of consenting to be my wife?"

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**Thanks for your patience! Updates will be much more fre****quent now that I'm done with school and graduation.**

**xx**


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